


No Easy Road

by Silverheart



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Science fiction explaining, Sibling bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverheart/pseuds/Silverheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Olduvai incident has not gone unnoticed, and the Grimm twins' only hope for refuge has machinations of its own. </p><p>After all, the Olduvai ruins were not the last remnants of that civilization, nor were they the only ancient sentience in the Solar System.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have terrible addiction to, ah, not necessarily good sci-fi action movies starring attractive men. What's terrible about Doom is that I feel like it had the capacity to be a pretty good movie. The world it sets up could be cool. The Grimm family dynamic is kind of interesting, and RRTS boys are even almost developed. With the expected exception of the Rock (sorry) the acting is decent. Oh, there are some badly misplaced lines ("Genesis, Chapter 1"? Oh, come on, how does that even follow? And 'hooah' is an Army thing, thank you). Give it another hour, less rewriting than you might think, some actual research into those silly Devil Dogs, and it could have been much better. 
> 
> Suffice to say, over the years, I couldn't get the potential out of my head. So here you are. It's silly, it's sci-fi explainy, it's home for an OFC who couldn't find one, and it's room for me to play with some ideas. Enjoy.

The ruins, again.

 

It was different this time. Not the way John needed. Not...whole, not full of conversation and laughter as Mom and Dad worked, not _home_. Never again.

 

No, just darker, as if that were possible. He could hear the monsters- his friends, his brothers, twisted ( _revealed_ )- snarling in hunger all around. He was unarmed, both man and boy at once.

 

They leapt at once, growling threats that were pleas for mercy, the faces of demons that were the faces of children. He froze, trying to _think_...

 

And then he woke up.

 

White walls. Too-clean air. Very, very painful IV in his arm.

 

Hospital. Right. There would have been guards outside the Ark. He remembered going up the elevator, then just dreams of Olduvai.

 

And no Sam. He sat bolt upright. He needed to find her.

 

"Welcome back to Earth, Sergeant Grimm." He turned to see a short woman in sleek Army blues with silver lieutenant's bars. Her direct eyes were mismatched, one bright blue, the other vibrant green. He could see the four pointed star crest of Military Intelligence on her shoulder.

 

_Fuck_.

 

"Where is my sister?"

 

"The room next door. She isn't superhuman; she's going to need more than a few hours to recover. But she'll be fine."

 

They stared at each other silently. The needle in his arm hurt like a bitch.

 

So, Intel had snatched him. _Army_ Intel at that. At least Marine and Navy Intel was just incompetent. Army Intel played games. Just how the politics of the brass had worked out over the years.

 

And it seemed they knew about C24.

 

Sam was going to leverage, he knew it. If they didn't decide to dissect him instead.

 

The lieutenant's gaze softened marginally. "She'll be fine. I promise."

 

He should rip the IV out, tear open the door, find Sam, and run. Run and keep running, for the rest of his life, dragging his sister with him.

 

He sighed and forcibly relaxed. The nerves in his arm kept screaming. Experience allowed him to think past the pain. "What do you want?"

 

Her eyebrows raised. If it weren't for the eyes and the bars and the crest, she'd be averagely pretty, with her thick brown hair and athletic build.  But those bars and that crest...

 

"Your cooperation."

 

Insubordination was the rule for him now lately, so he might as well run with it. "In what?"

 

"Hazardous duty of a kind your familiar with. For Army Intelliegence, this time." One pale hand touched the crest on her shoulder.

 

"And if I don't cooperate?"

 

"You're here, and not strapped to a lab table, because Colonel Harren talked UAC out of that route half an hour ago. I'm sure they'd appreciate your loyalty, though, if you decide to refuse us."

 

He stared blankly at a wall. Serve, run, or die. No pleasant prospects. "Shit."

 

She laughed. "The Colonel will like you."

 

"Just...I need to see Sam."

 

The young officer nodded and opened the room's door.

 

A civilian nurse hurried in and frowned at his arm. The lieutenant looked amused. "It hurts doesn't it?" He glared at her. "Your cells are trying to grow through it. You're lucky you heal like you do. You needed saline-even superhumans dehydrate- but it took a few needles and some moments from a medical horror." She pointed to the needle in his arm as the nurse set up to get it out. "That is adamantine, and worth a lot of money."

 

"I'm valuable, then."

 

"You already knew that."

 

The nurse pulled the needle out, which only hurt like normal. The wound closed instantly. The officer didn't blink, though the nurse stared in awe. She was waved out as John stood.

 

The lieutenant was, indeed, not very tall, about five feet. He towered over her. She wasn't even bothered. "Follow me. You might want to hold the hospital gown closed in the back."

 

He obeyed the direction and followed the advice with as much dignity as he could. This was her domain. Irritated, he decided that if he took their offer - serve, run, or die- he'd get the better of her, even if it took him years.

 

Sam really was in the next room, out cold. John hurried past his minder to sit by her side. There was an IV in her arm, and someone had obviously bathed her.

 

He took her hand and cussed at himself mentally. He never should have left. He never should have let her drift away. He knew this wasn't his fault, but damned if he didn't feel like it was.

 

"Concussion, multiple sprains, bruises, some fractures," the lieutenant said, "She was sleeping normally, but she was screaming in her sleep, so they gave her something to put her at ease. Should be out of her system in five hours or so."

 

He shut his eyes. "What happens to her if I refuse?"

 

"Same thing. You know no one will let her go. She'll be doing her life's work on some payroll-UAC, ours." There was a pause. "If you run, like you want, it won't be pleasant for her. That's not a threat, that's a fact."

 

He hurt. Not physically, but inside. So much death, and then those things that had been people. He opened his eyes again and looked up at the officer. Her face betrayed nothing but polite interest.

 

Just a big game. He'd always known that. His family, both his blood and his brothers in arms, they'd mattered more. And now all he had was Sam. "Will you make her...do what they did at Olduvai, or anything like that?" Will you make her into something she doesn't want to be? Into a monster? He'd seen enough of that.

 

"No. This unit...Colonel Harren...no." The polite interest vanished; instead, she radiated conviction. "If they try, I'll do everything to stop them. They won't, though. The Colonel can explain better than I."

 

"But not if I don't agree to play, first."

 

"You know how operational security works."

 

Serve, run, die. Run with no where to run to, with some of the richest and most powerful people on Earth on his tail. Die horribly, leaving Sam utterly alone, without home, family, or friends, and leaving his strange new genetics in the hands of people he didn't trust.

 

He took a deep breath. "I'll work for you. But not my blood, not this thing. You know what it can do, by now." She nodded. "And Sam needs to be comfortable."

 

"And very safe. You'll see each other often."

 

He nodded, looking at his sister. She seemed peaceful, but the nightmares would be powerful once the drug wore off.

 

"I'll give you two hours. Someone will bring food and clothing. Then we'll move you and her out of here. They're going to dismantle the Ark facility within the day."

 

"Operational security," he said, with a bitter smile.

 

She nodded. "I'm Lieutenant Shaw, by the way. Your...handler, for the indefinite future. A pleasure to meet you."

 

He watched as she left, then turned back to Sam.

 

No such thing as an easy road, not for John Grimm.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry for not asking you."

 

It wasn't the first time John had made big decisions without talking to her- when he'd left, for instance. Just gone one morning, no warning but their growing emotional distance, all his things gone and a very short email for explanation.

 

Sam shrugged and wheeled her chair to another keyboard. "You're the one hooked up to every monitor known to man."

 

He looked at her from the other side of the glass, annoyed and covered in sensors. That Lieutenant Shaw had made sure Sam had been the one who tested John's potential. The younger woman was very perceptive to pick up on her desire for that, though Sam was sure there was some calculation behind it all. They had been testing for three days, ever since she woke up in this militarized summer camp in an undisclosed location.

 

John's explanation for their situation hadn't impressed her. They were being used, and he was more or less just going with it. She understood there wasn't much choice, but...if she had only known what had been going on at Olduvai. She wished she had left, like he had. Then none of this would have happened.

 

Her priority, now, was going to be to protect John, and to keep C24 from spreading. They were the same goal.

 

She typed the commands to activate the test on his terminal. The physical tests were over. John would be a very difficult man to kill; now their new captors knew that empirically. Hooray for them.

 

This, though, would be more interesting. His intellect should have improved, according to her theories on the Olduvai civilization. What that meant, though...it wasn't like he had been infused with all the knowledge of the universe via needle.

 

"You may begin," she told him.

 

She watched the results on her screen, question by question, all timed.

 

The initial math problems were completed so quickly she was certain a computer had answered them. He was just clicking through them. Simple fact regurgitation, scientific and otherwise, went similarly-- when he knew them already. When he didn't, he was clearly thinking fast, but he didn't always get the right answer.

 

She leaned back as she watched him scribble on scratch paper as he hit the more complex math section. The computer gave a soft ping as he answered correctly and moved on.

 

Not smarter, exactly, but processing faster, or so she'd bet. She would have to get a look at the sensor data to be sure.

 

The next battery of tests should be information analysis and application. John hated writing essays, but it would help. She smiled to herself, remembering hearing him curse as a teenager over late night English homework.

 

"He's doing very well," a man said from over her shoulder.

 

Sam tensed, looking up to see a man in his forties, handsome in a graying way. He wore the same sleek blue uniform as most of the others who worked here, though the rank on his lapel and sleeves was an eagle. She had no idea what that indicated, but it was much fancier than Shaw's simple silver bars, so he was probably very important.

 

John stumbled on an engineering problem, swearing under his breath as he worked on it.

 

"It's nice to know he doesn't simply know everything. Accelerated, essentially, similar to the physical tests." Sam's brow furrowed. "He didn't become more physically flexible, for instance.  It didn't give him what wasn't there in the first place."

 

Sam nodded. "That matches with everything else, including the morality sense of the mutation."

 

"Yes. Unfortunate, that. I'm not so naive to think we can tame it, or that mankind is moral enough to not become a race of mostly monsters. I know you worry over that, Dr. Grimm. While that may be the intention of my peers and many others, it isn't mine."

 

"Thank you...Colonel Harren?" She'd heard the name, but the man hadn't made an appearance.

 

"Yes, indeed. I always believed we should have kept names on our uniforms."

 

"Lieutenant Shaw says you saved us." She held his eyes. They were dark, impenetrable. It reminded her of the higher-ups from the UAC. They weren't all bad men, and most had never been involved with anything at Olduvai, but they saw life as a chess game. You could never really trust them.

 

"Looking at people as disposable tools is a command philosophy very popular throughout the world right now. I don't agree with its effectiveness."

 

She turned back the screen, watching John answer questions, not knowing what to say to the non-answer. She was being paranoid, but that was what she needed to do now.

 

"People are, in fact, indispensable. Please let Sergeant Grimm know I want to speak with him when he's done. I'll be down the hall." He turned to leave, saying,  "Lieutenant Shaw, interaction is probably helpful to the development of your platoon of one. Grow beyond your analyst comfort zone."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

The Colonel chuckled and was gone.

 

Shaw took the chair next to Sam. "I'm sorry, he snuck up on me."

 

Sam shrugged and they sat in silence for a few minutes. John finished the test and leaned back, grinning smugly at his twin. "I know that went fast. So, am I smarter now?"

 

Sam rolled her eyes. "You think faster, at least. Smarter would depend on what you're thinking." Shaw snorted quietly. "Colonel Harren wants to see you."

 

John blinked as he began carefully pulling the sensors off his skin. They'd been doing this for days now; he knew how not to damage the equipment. She hoped. The Army medical personnel hadn't been happy about the broken ones. Fewer enemies would be nice.

 

He shrugged back on his shirt and exited the observation room, sitting on a desk to put on his boots.

 

Sam hadn't seen him in too long. She still wasn't used to the muscle of him, remembering someone lighter and leaner. No one would believe that they were twins these days.

 

"I'll show you to his office," Shaw said, "Dr. Grimm, if you'll head back to your current quarters, there's a sergeant there who can get you somewhere more permanent. I'll be introducing you to your research team in a few days."

 

"Research team?"

 

"Of course. You know more about the Olduvai civilization than anyone else."

 

"I'm not researching C24. Not for you, not for _anyone_."

 

"That's true. But there was more to Olduvai than that."

 

"Yeah," John said, "the pit of Hell."

 

Both women ignored him. "Just Olduvai," Sam said slowly.

 

"Yes. You'll be kept here, of course, because everyone else will want C24 from you."

 

And as leverage against John.

 

"Okay. John, when you can, come see me."

 

"Here," Shaw said,  holding out a cellphone. Her mixed eyes seemed so earnest. Their color was part of why Sam didn't trust her. They had to be an artificial modification. People paid a lot of money for that sort of thing. In Shaw's line of work, those eyes were probably just another form of manipulation.

 

Sam was giving herself a headache. She wished she could just stop being paranoid.

 

She took the phone. It was simple, not flashy. She hadn't had a phone in years. They didn't work well on Mars. Shaw looked to John. "I have one here for you, as well. They're preprogrammed with each other's numbers."

 

Sam looked at the earnest modified eyes again. "Thank you. I'll see you later, John."

 

Her brother walked over to take the other phone from Shaw. "You okay, Sam?" he asked.

 

"Later."

 

He laid a hand on her shoulder, callused in a way she didn't remember. "I understand." To Shaw, he said, "Lead the way."

 

* * *

 

Repairing things with Sam wasn't going to be easy. He hated dragging her into this.

 

The worst of it was that, as valuable as his blood was, what she knew would be more valuable. She understood C24. He just had been effected by it.

 

Not a problem he could solve now, though he had to convince himself of that. He'd kicked that test's ass, and quickly. The physical tests hadn't been as exhilarating as that.

 

Still not a dumb Marine, he guessed. Still his parents' son. He was proud of that. He'd forgotten how proud he was of that.

 

"You'll have new quarters, too. Yes, you can tell her where."

 

"Do you always guess what people are thinking, ma'am?"

 

"It used to be my job," she said, "and I'm trying to show that I'm not manipulating you. People usually think I am, but the Colonel can have that one. He is manipulating you. In what particular direction, I honestly can't always say.

 

"When you get your eyes tweaked as an Intel officer, people do tend to think that you're manipulating them." He was way too high on his success. He missed the guys. The sorrow of that thought sobered him.

 

"It wasn't my doing. My parents did that when I was in utero. There was a plan." She gave him a bitter grin. "So I know what it is to be used."

 

"And now? Harren, isn't he using you?"

 

"Is it being used when you agree with the end?"

 

"A great philosophical question." She nodded quietly. "What's the end?"

 

"Actually keeping people safe, and not playing political lapdog. To anyone."

 

She stopped at a plain door some ways down the hall. "Here we are." She began to knock, but the door was thrown open by an older man with a colonel's eagle on his uniform. Shaw was thrown off-balance. John reached out to keep her upright.

 

"Trying, I see, Lieutenant."

 

"Always, sir."

 

"That's why you're here. Stay. Sergeant Grimm, good to finally see you in person."

 

John came to attention and saluted. The Colonel returned it. "Relax. Marine formality is stifling." He reached out a hand and John shook it. As Shaw said, the man was manipulating him. He ushered them into the room, but no one sat. "I apologize for the situation. I'd prefer to be more diplomatic, but I had to hurry before the winds changed."

 

Not a lot to say to that. He found it easy to be insubordinate to Shaw (something about her begged for it), but that eagle was intimidating. "Yes, sir."

 

"My main goal was to keep you out of the hands of others. You saw what UAC is willing to do. I believe we can agree ours is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

 

"You knew what they were up to?" John asked, outraged. His friends were dead, dammit. Lots of people were dead. Some of them became monsters.

 

"C24 was a theory until too late. We found out that you were superhuman while treating you. UAC floated the theory. It was all I could do to get you out of the feeding frenzy then. Most of them think you're dead. Lieutenant Shaw has been working hard to keep them thinking that."

 

She bowed her head. "Stay away from social media and don't ruin my hard work, Grimm."

 

He narrowed his eyes as he considered the right comeback. The Colonel interrupted before he could. "A superman has limited uses, truth be told, especially when it's possible his blood could birth monsters. But there's a new game afoot."

 

Shaw cocked her head, eyes wide and hungry.

 

The Colonel chuckled and nodded. "Understand that this highly classified. The situation on Europa has changed."

 

John blinked, confused. There had been a situation on Europa? It's entire human habitation consisted of a tiny research facility clinging to the underside of the ice. Olduvai had been a teeming city by comparison.

 

"Old Hack found what he was looking for?" Shaw asked, clearly intrigued.

 

"The hominids of Olduvai seemed to have been on Europa, too. Beneath the ice, like we are. And deeper. He's only found a very well preserved research station and some vehicles, but he's thinking there's more."

 

"We thought he was insane for thinking there was anything. It was sea monsters, first, and that's never been proven."

 

John was not following, but he shut up and listened as the Colonel nodded. "We knew he was insane- but the Faith of the Frozen Prophet was effective at keeping the place running. They had terrorist aspirations, but it wasn't likely to be an issue, not with less than two hundred members."

 

Shaw looked at John, saw his confusion, and looked more smug than usual. "Theodore Hack was Europa's administrator for years, and then he cracked, and it kept getting worse. Began talking of a Frozen Prophet, and the perfection of the dark and ice. He intends to spread that perfection, but lacked the means. The station belongs to the faithful. He kept the place going, though, and reasonably sane, the research always _looked_ promising, so the UAC and everyone let him be. Just Crazy Old Hack, wanting another ice age again."

 

John nodded. "But now he's found more of what was on Olduvai."

 

"And in better condition," the Colonel said, "C24, probably. And this is the civilization that built the Ark, which we don't fully understand. We don't know what else they could build."

 

"So we stop him."

 

"Yes. Though Europa is not easy to get to. And maybe it's nothing really, in which case hitting the facility would be...inadvisable. Though if it is something, then no one else will bother until too late."

 

"I'll start researching, sir. If we're going to wait for a development, we should be ready to move at a moment's notice," Shaw said.

 

The Colonel nodded. "Of course. I'll make sure all new info is routed to you. Sergeant, don't get lazy. I have a bad feeling about this one."


	3. Chapter 3

Lieutenant Shaw- Mar, actually, though only in her own head, these days- read through Dr. Grimm's report and was about as impressed as she thought she would be.

 

She was glad he didn't run. It would have been a waste.

 

One of her personnel alerts sounded. She scowled at the computer and entered the appropriate commands. Another dummy email account found, and now deleted. It would lead to another, and another, and they were getting perilously close to finding her. Unlike the Grimm twins, Mar Shaw was legally alive, and she needed some way to deal with the outside world. She couldn't just vanish.

 

Colonel Harren didn't seen interested in solving the problem for her. He had taken her under his wing for her intelligence and character, yes, but he also wanted leverage just in case. She was honestly the only thing he had to use against that world.

 

The man had a strange way of manipulating you. You knew he was doing it, if you looked, but you couldn't ever understand the angle, or even if it wasn't just his reflexive way of dealing with people.

 

Her military account pinged soothingly. Speak of the devil; Harren's aide had sent her a message flagged urgent.

 

All the message contained was a series of links to...entertainment sites? Her heart sank. She clicked one.

 

"Kick Wilson and Amy Tariff have just returned from their charity trip to Europa," the bleach blonde reporter cooed, "They vanished from the map several days ago. There was a lot of speculation during their absence, but they're going to be holding a press conference tomorrow morning. What could they say? Why did they go to the very edge of civilization? Glam!people will have the scoop, live at nine tomorrow."

 

Shaw hit pause and stared at the screen.

 

To quote, "Shit."

 

* * *

 

Olduvai.

 

Terrible, always. And dark, again. The beast-children-brothers growling and begging, even worse.

 

He stared at his hands. He waited for the bone ridges to rise, for his nails to turn to claws. It should. He had it, too. He should be a monster, but he wasn't, but he should be.

 

The lines of Olduvai distorted, layers of ruin, ghosts on top of each other. Each one _screamed_.

 

John collapsed, covering his ears, adding his own too-human howl to the cacophony.

 

He jolted awake. Sweat was pouring down his face. This wasn't the barracks...it took him a minute to remember where he was. An apartment on some Army spook base. Right.

 

He sat up. It was so lonely here. He'd had his issues with the guys, especially in close quarters, but they were family. It meant something, somehow, to hear other people breathing softly in the dark.

 

It helped with the Olduvai nightmare, too. Though it was changing now. He snorted and stood. He should have see that coming after going back there.

 

He showered, shaved, and dressed in quiet comfort. The apartment wasn't luxurious, but it was nice in a simple sort of way.

 

It felt wrong, to wake up so late, with no PT. Did he need to exercise now? He probably should start just to keep himself busy while waiting for...whatever. He opened a window. Fresh air might help clear his head.

 

Pine forest outside, as far as the eye could see, and the weirdly cozy sounds of a military facility starting the day; vehicles and shouts and chatter and laughter. John shut his eyes and breathed deeply. The life around him forced Olduvai back.

 

But never away. It was in his blood now, a mutation in his cells.

 

He shut the window and headed toward the common room. Today felt like a good day to go to the range. Blow some holes in something.

 

First, though, he would call Sam. He'd visited her new quarters several times in the past week, but it hadn't been any less awkward. God, they had changed. He'd known that. It should have bothered him this much before. Regrets weren't worth anything.

 

He hit the speed dial as he headed toward the door. Shaw was pacing circles, stopping him with look. The big television was on, a small crowd of people he recognized as other tenants in front of it.  He recognized the channel as Glam!people. Celebrity gossip. Portman had liked to watch it and make sick cracks before excusing himself to masturbate.

 

What had Shaw so tense? He stopped obediently, but not without a glare. She didn't notice. Sam's phone kept ringing.

 

Sam picked up just before he gave up. "Sorry," she apologized, "I haven't had a phone in years."

 

"No problem," he said, "just checking in. How's it going over there?" Over there was a  fifteen minute walk away, but he needed to shoot something, and Shaw was probably going to have something for him to do today, by the look of her.

 

"Fine. I guess the others are showing up today." This was comfortably ordinary. "And some artifacts from Olduvai."

 

He was glad she couldn't see the instinctual scowl he gave when he heard the name. "Things from museums?"

 

She gave a mocking laugh. "Oh, no! We never gave them anything interesting.These are from other labs, mostly."

 

"Bones?" he asked, tensing.

 

"We never let them get off Mars. Each one was important. They were more secure than the weapons vaults. We're getting a couple steles, some of the more interesting sculpture."

 

Shaw snapped at the rowdy crowd, most of whom were wining about the channel. John's brow furrowed. She wasn't temperamental at all, at least not since he'd known her.

 

The officer shot him a meaningful, tired look. "Hey, I'll see you at dinner, okay?" John told Sam, "I think I figured out my kitchen."

 

Sam laughed, no mocking this time. "Ten years can't have taught you to cook, John. We'll eat at my place. I know you."

 

He scrubbed at his eyes. "You do. Talk later."

 

He hung up and went over to where Shaw was wearing circles in the carpet. "You okay?"

 

"No. This is about to get important. And strange."

 

The screen flashed blinding pink, and a blonde popped and started babbling about Kick Wilson and Amy Tardiff, a pair of mega-celebrities he'd seen in a few movies on the net. Duke and Portman had liked to drool of Amy Tardiff, with her big green doe eyes, though she was years older than them. Lots of gene therapy. Not his type, he'd told them, and they'd said his only type had a thirty round magazine and could switch from auto to burst. He frowned at the screen with the memory.

 

The blonde started talking. "In just a few minutes, Kick and Amy will be detailing- and hopefully explaining! - their mysterious charity trip to Jupiter's moon of Europa."

 

His eyes snapped towards Shaw. "What the hell?"

 

"Oh, it won't be good. Celebrities make such fine messes when they decide to visit cultist madmen in the middle of nowhere."

 

Kick's handsome face, just as much a product of gene therapy as Amy's, filled up the screen. Hollywood's golden boy, from his shining mane to his big blue eyes to his perfect tan. Creepy, somehow.

 

The camera panned out to show his girlfriend. They were holding hands and waving. The crowd in front of them just ate it up.

 

"My fellow earthlings," Kick said, and John had to suppress a laugh, "I've just met the most incredible man. Amy and I decided to take a trip to see the Solar System, you see, and we found ourselves on Europa. There, we met Theodore Hack. He is a treasure, just so...so..."

 

"Kind," Amy said, "and smart. He has managed to convince the UAC to begin full-scale colonization of Europa within the year. And Kick and I will be among the first to call that pristine little moon our new bungalow."

 

Shaw made a slight retching sound at the back of her throat. A little dramatic of her. It was a silly comment by a silly woman, but he'd seen worse displays.

 

Kick nodded and smiled at down at Amy. "We've been searching for peace ever since our loss, and on Europa we've finally-"

 

Someone finally had it and changed the channel. Shaw let them.

 

"This isn't good," John said, "Are they playing or being played?"

 

"Being played, at least as we need to care. Playing, in the the way mega-celebrities do." She headed out the building, irritated. John went with her. "Hack wants more people on Europa. And the UAC agrees with him, even after Olduvai. No caution."

 

"C24? That was their prize there."

 

"I don't know. Either Harren isn't telling or they're keeping it real tight."

 

John grunted. "So we start making plans?"

 

"Yes. Care to see the schematics of a facility smaller than Olduvai, clinging to the bottom of an ice shelf on an alien moon?"

 

He itched to finally do something. "We sure something's up?"

 

"I can get you a tabloid where Hack sort of details what he's found. In fact, I can get you several dozen, and they're not the same interview."

 

John took a deep breath. "If you wouldn't mind..."

 

She laughed, and led him towards one of the buildings, much less tense.

 

* * *

 

Sam found herself apathetic about her new colleagues, and was putting off meeting them. Her nearest friends were dead. Collaboration had never been her strong suit, anyway, especially since a lot of work was at the dig. She'd...rather not take others there if she could help it. It was too private a place.

 

But the artifacts, she couldn't wait to see those. Shaw had sent her a copy of the catalogue, and she poured over it for hours, making notes and cross-referencing her own published papers. She had lost everything on Mars.

 

The collection wasn't as good as being at the Olduvai ruins- no remains, for one- but it did have some interesting pieces, especially in light of what she'd been piecing together before the end.

 

Olduvai had been the only ruins they had found, and it was entirely subsurface. Besides a few surface airlocks, the only entrance and exit had been the ark. There had been no evidence of vehicles whatsoever. Yet all evidence, from the earliest (the Ark) to the the most recent (C24), said this was an incredibly advanced civilization.

 

An incredibly advanced civilization with no written language, though Thurman had believed the oldest steles did have writing on them, though they were so worn and decayed they could barely be handled. The geometric scratches could have been anything. And there has been only ten found, all in the same condition. None of them had been found with the newer bones.

 

But in this collection, right in her hands, was a newer piece. Just a fragment of some greater carving, barely a foot long and six inches wide, with four deeply carved lines arcing across the stone. There weren't any of those scratches, but there was a circle on one of the lines. There might have been a design in it, but revealing it was delicate work. Sam's eyes narrowed as she carefully scratched away dirt with a dental pick.

 

"Dr. Grimm?"

 

She pulled her instrument away from the stone, blinking back into the world as she turned to the newcomer.

 

It was a tall, frumpy woman, holding two steaming mugs. She smiled at her and sat the mugs down a respectable distance from the metal exam table Sam sat at.

 

"Couldn't wait to get to the lab?" she asked, "I can't blame you. This is a treasure trove."

 

Sam nodded slowly. She could smell some kind of mint tea.

 

"I''m Dr. Adrian Jameson," the woman said  holding out her hand. She wore a pair of ridiculous glasses that magnified her gray eyes to owlish proportions, though she hardly seemed to blink behind them.  Her hair was silver and bright, and her skin looked like she had once been a fair woman who'd spent too much time in the sun. "I was one of the scientists who managed to open the Ark...ages ago, it feels like."

 

Sam shook the offered hand. "I'm Dr. Samantha Grimm. I was working at Olduvai when..." She hesitated. She'd known before she was the only survivor of the Olduvai team. She just hadn't really thought about it.

 

Was this what John felt like, knowing he was the last of RRTS?

 

The other woman nodded grimly. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how it must have been. An air leak, and then the Ark _blowing_ _up_...what a way to go. I can't believe the system could fail so catastrophically."

 

Sam stared. "What?" A cover up. Of course. No one would want the public to know what happened at Olduvai. She certainly didn't. John would become even more of a science experiment. People would want C24, and it would hit the word like a plague. "Oh." She buried her face in her gloved hands. Suddenly, all her slowly healing aches and pains began pounding. She didn't want to think about what happened. She didn't want to think about the consequences. "I...can't."

 

"Here." There was a light click. Sam raised her head to see the tea mug. "It's not much, but I thought it might help, at least a little."

 

"Thank you, Dr. Jameson."

 

"Please, call me Adriann. The four of us are going to be neighbors, so we shouldn't be strangers."

 

Sam smiled slightly and took a sip. "Four?"

 

"Jack and Erin Tedessa. Anthropologists. They came from New Ur as soon as they got the invitation- well, as soon as they found out it had nothing to do with the UAC, thank God. Abysmal safety record, all sorts of shadow games. They'll pull funding at random. I realize this here is all very hush-hush, but it's much more broad-minded."

 

Sam hadn't exactly been given a directive beyond 'learn what you can'. "So you don't mind the secrecy?"

 

"Oh, you've spent a long time out of the scientific community up on Mars, haven't you? It's quite secretive in its own right. There's obviously some kind of investigation going on." She leaned forward conspiratorially, her magnified eyes widening ridiculously, though her tone was quite serious. "The think the system failures were caused by something from the Olduvai civilization, something they were studying. I'd bet my life on it. They're hoping we'll find it, and then they can blackmail the UAC with it."

 

That was eerily close to the truth. Sam shrugged. "I don't know. They can want what they want. I'm just trying to learn more, like I was before."

 

Adriann chuckled. "Oh, quite. The Tedessa's are having dinner tonight; they've had quite a time moving in. Would you come? Hopefully we can start analysis tomorrow, but we should try to get to know each other."

 

Sam shook her head. She liked this woman, though she knew she should lock people out. It would be safer. She would be better able to focus on taking care do John. "I'm supposed to meet my brother for dinner tonight. He's working for the spooks here. Really, he's probably the main reason I'm here."

 

"Bring him along! The more the merrier."

 

It'd be a nice break to their awkward meetings over the past week, certainly. Maybe show John how civilians lived again, especially scientists. She'd make sure to change his name, though. If people kept thinking her twin was dead, he'd be safer. "I'm sure he'd be delighted."


	4. Chapter 4

"Go," Shaw said, scrubbing at her eyes, "I won't be able to get anymore done tonight. The original schematics are as good as I'll be able to pry out."

 

John frowned at the printed model of Europa Station. It was to scale, and each layer came apart so they could be poured over in detail, which he'd done. Sarge had run RRTS without a lot of planning, but John had taken the opportunity to look over their orders whenever he had the chance. He appreciated this chance to get some serious recon and make real assault plans.

 

Though so far they didn't have enough information. Hack was known to have made major changes to the Station, but no one had all the details.

 

"Thanks."

 

She threw him a weary grin. "It's my job to take care of my soldiers."

 

"Marine."

 

"Whatever. Go."

 

He happily obeyed, throwing a casual salute as he left.

 

Sam lived in the less-military part of the facility. It was almost picture perfect, with white picket fences and people playing with their dogs. Hardly anyone wore a uniform, and the Commissary felt like a mom-and-pop general store. He hadn't expected something like it on a base with no name.

 

John felt awkward walking down the sidewalk here. It wasn't the sort of place he'd ever spent time. He swore he could feel the mutation crawling in his bones. In an instant, he knew dozens of different ways to kill every person he saw. And yet no one moved away from him. Most barely spared him a glance.

 

He arrived at Sam's apartment with a store-bought cake. He sighed before he knocked, hoping thus would not be yet another awkward dinner.

 

To his surprise, she welcomed him with a hug. It took a moment for him to respond. "About time," she said. Her hair was sticking out at all angles and her eyes had a slightly unfocused look. She looked like mom, after a productive day. "We're meeting my colleagues for dinner upstairs. Your name is Jeremy for tonight."

 

John blinked. "Oh." He decided it was an occasion to notice what his sister was wearing, usually not something he did. She was wearing a blue business dress. One of _those_ dinners, then. So much for not awkward. "I'm not really dressed for the occasion." Secondhand jeans and a workout shirt were probably not the look she was going for. He remembered this dilemma. His clothing for occasions had a tendency to piss his teenaged sister off, long ago. "You could have given me a heads up."

 

"I was busy. There was a very interesting relief in what they gave us."

 

"Something new?"

 

"Maybe. You'll do, mostly because we can't make it better right now. Come on."

 

John followed her one floor up, feeling like an idiot. Maybe that decade was just too big a gulf to cross.

 

Sam knocked on one of the grass-green doors. A petite African-American woman opened it gave them a big smile. "Dr. Grimm, it's such a pleasure to meet you! I'm Erin Tedessa. Please come in."

 

The two women shook hands as the twins entered. "Thank you for the invitation, Dr. Tedessa...Erin," Sam said, "This is my brother, Jeremy. He's been stationed for a few months."

 

John shook the woman's very tiny hand. "I just came from work," he told her, gesturing at his jeans, "Barely had time to change." Also, hadn't been told he was going to dinner here. He glared very briefly at Sam.

 

"Oh, it's alright. We all have those days. Jim once showed up to a sponsor's banquet covered in mud from a dig." She led them over to a tall man who looked like Destroyer's academic younger brother. "Jim, my dear husband, meet Samantha Grimm and her brother, Jeremy."

 

The man smiled widely. Instead of shaking their hands, he clapped them on the shoulders in welcome. "Just in time for dinner. Come on, sit. Adriann, thank you for getting our invitation to her." An older woman, who appeared to be a damn _giant_ , nodded and smiled from her place at the glass-topped table.

 

Erin filled their wineglasses as they sat. "We couldn't find an email for you, and the move was so hectic, so Adriann volunteered to hunt you down."

 

Sam spread her napkin on her lap. "Thank you for the invitation. I'll be glad to have your help. We'll have a difficult time reconstructing the Olduvai research together. I'd hate to do it on my own."

 

Food began to be passed around. John was happy to have something to eat. It would keep him busy.

 

He really wished she'd told him about this. But then, he hadn't consulted her about ending up here, either.

 

"It's a shame about the Ark," Jim said, "I never trust UAC software, especially not on vital systems."

 

John swirled his wine glass. He hadn't had alcohol in forever, or so it felt. Would it even effect him anymore? Worth a try, anyway. He frowned a little as he took a sip. He really hadn't had wine in forever. Took some getting used to.

 

"We knew the Ark was volatile," the giantess, Adriann, said, "Early experiments made that graphically clear. Mix that with our lack of understanding and the UAC's impatience, and you end up with this mess."

 

John wiped his mouth on his napkin, eyes flicking from scientist to scientist. Shaw had mentioned the Ark's destruction was being covered up. He guessed it was taking.

 

Jim sighed. "I wish space travel wasn't so damn expensive. The Ark facility was destroyed, yes, and probably most of the Olduvai complex, but the ruins were quite extensive."

 

His wife shook her head violently. "The UAC not only operates all space travel, it builds all the ships. It's not only expensive, it's dangerous. Their software grafted onto the Ark was a disaster! Imagine their software running the metal box your life depends on!"

 

John shot Sam a look over a forkful of turkey. She nodded slightly and cleared her throat. "Even if the ruins weren't obliterated, they would be too unstable to explore now." The well-known Grimm family past lent the statement a lot of weight, bringing silence to the table.

 

Erin nodded. "True. Though it's hard to imagine a civilization like Olduvai didn't have other cities."

 

Sam shrugged. "We never found evidence of any."

 

"They are a great mystery," Adriann said. Her plate, full at the start of the conversation, was now clean. "We don't understand how the Ark worked, nor do we know why it was built. They have left the barest evidence of a written language, and all of it seems to be much older than most of the city. What we do have is impossible to translate, if it _is_ writing. And now with Olduvai inaccessible..." She shook her head.

 

"We'll learn what we can," Jim said.

 

"Most findings were published," Sam said, "So we don't have any more of a blank slate than we did." She gave a hollow smile, barely more than a quirk of her mouth. "It will be a good way to remember the others, continuing their work."

 

John guessed so. He personally believed Olduvai should be forgotten. Let it be a modern Atlantis, something forgotten and mythical. There was nothing good to come of it. Every wonder of the modern world had come from Earth, not Mars. Gene therapy and modification? Earth. Space travel? Earth. Functional civilization that doesn't turn people into mutated demons? Exclusive to Earth.

 

The dead of Olduvai hadn't given their lives in pursuit of greater knowledge. They'd died, been _slaughtered_ , because of it. It wasn't noble, it wasn't sacrifice, it was just a fucking horrible tragedy.

 

He said nothing, just stabbed another piece of chicken.

 

Dinner continued on in the same fashion, most discussion centered on archeology. Sam, God bless her, managed to steer it away from Olduvai towards the others' recent work. John finished his food just as their hostess brought out dessert, a handmade chocolate cake. John's stomach thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

"So, Jeremy," Adriann said, "what do you do here?"

 

It took him a second to remember that he was Jeremy tonight. "Sorry. Classified."

 

"A 'spook', hmm? Just like everyone else here. I'll get it out of you yet."

 

"Secrets are always more boring than you'd think."

 

Adriann laughed. "No, never."

 

Everyone chuckled. John happily dug into the cake and ignored everything else. This place was just not _his_. It was nice, clean, new, and neat. The scientists were just so domesticated. He doubted any of them had ever handled a weapon.

 

And they kept wanting to go back to Olduvai.

John finished his cake and looked at Sam. "I should really get back. Work tomorrow."

 

She nodded. "I'll see you out."

 

They walked to the building's main doors.The domesticity of the place was an almost audible quiet. "What was with the Jeremy thing?" John asked, needing to break the non-noise when they reached the door.

 

"They're nice people, but we don't know them." She looked up at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "I promised myself I'd protect you."

 

He scowled. "Studying Olduvai is going to protect me how?"

 

" _That_ is my life's work, John, and that of a lot of other people. Olduvai is destroyed. No one else will be able to learn it. Olduvai wasn't just...that. It was a civilization, and I intend to learn more about it. That's what they want me to do, if you'll recall."

 

"You know you should leave it alone. Let it fade. Nothing to do with Olduvai ever ends well."

 

She ran her hand through her hair. "Have a nice night, John. I'll call when I have time." She turned to head back upstairs.

 

"Dinner when you can, too," he told her back. She didn't turn around.

 

He really hoped his Europa mission worked out better than his Sam one was going.


	5. Chapter 5

Shaw kept refreshing her email, waiting for the Colonel's orders. It had to be soon. The UAC had just launched a new habitation module for Europa, capable of supporting another two hundred inhabitants. It would be there in a few months, emplaced and functional within six. They'd be sending Grimm up soon. They had to.

 

She had to calm down and realize that they didn't know something was going on. Just a few tabloid interviews with a madman and his communications with the UAC. Neither was particularly vague, the UAC was within their rights to explore, intervening would be expensive and difficult. Shaw knew this. Her personal issues were influencing her beliefs about Hack.

 

Well, nothing good ever did come from those two getting involved. Tardiff's last pet project had been population control in Africa, which ended up being a front for intertribal genocide via genetically engineered sterility. An entire culture was now on its last generation. That had only been the latest event. There was a long list. Shaw was very certain that it wasn't malignancy; it was just stupidity and the typical series of celebrity psychological complexes.

 

She sighed and removed her hands from the keyboard. She needed to think clearly. Let her past be her past.

 

If Hack had found C24, he was going to build an army with the new colonists. Even if he hadn't found it, if he'd just found technology, he'd be doing the same. If he'd figured out how to build the Ark, things could get very, very bad. The man wanted an ice age across the universe, and intended to somehow bring it about through violence. If he had the ability to do so...

 

But they needed proof. The UAC communications had been simple and vague. Tabloids were tabloids. Europa was distant. They needed to send a recon team.

 

How? New colonists would have to wait six months, and by then it might be too late. They couldn't just sneak onto the moon, either; the ice took months to punch or melt through, _if_ you picked the right spot. Most spots would take years.

 

But the prospectors and miners of the outer Solar System, they might get a chance to spend time on the station. There weren't many of them, mostly half-mad UAC contractors paid very little in hopes of striking something very big. It had been just such a team that found microscopic life on Europa, prompting the Station's construction.

 

The office door banged open, shocking her from her thoughts. Grimm walked in. "Morning," he grumbled, collapsing in a chair. He threw an empty styrofoam cup into her trash can.

 

"UAC launched a new module for Europa this morning," she told him, "It will be ready for for inhabitation in six months at most."

 

He rubbed his eyes. "The receptionist had Glam!people on. Lots of talk about signing up for Europa. Kick Wilson was talking about his enlightenment. He's obsessed."

 

"That man is always obsessed with something," Shaw muttered, "I'm going to try to get a recon team out there. With conformation, we can get this ball rolling."

 

Grimm nodded and stared at the wall behind her. What was he...oh, probably her diploma. "Your first name's Mar?"

 

"Yes." She began typing her request and specifications for a recon team to Europa.

 

"Weird name."

 

Shaw shrugged and kept typing. She had yet to give much weight to the opinions of men; no reason to do anything different to a superman.

 

After a few minutes, she hit send and looked up. Grimm was asleep. She smirked and took the chance to admire him blatantly.

 

He was a very attractive man, some years older than her, and built like a warrior. His hair was long enough to be attractively disordered, which was pushing it with the Marines, she knew. The batshit crazy of RRTS got some leeway, evidently.

 

His eyes, though. His eyes were a pleasant greenish hazel, with something strange and maybe inhuman in them. It depended on the angle. The thing in his blood, manifesting for all to see? It made her worry.

 

It thrilled her, too. She really needed to get out more. Get the recon scheduled, go to the O-club. Have a bit of normalcy. That had been a life goal, at one point.

 

Grimm twitched in his sleep, then started thrashing. He threw his arm over his face and toppled out of the chair.

 

Shaw vaulted over her desk. She approached him carefully, mindful of his thrashing and strength. "Sergeant Grimm. John." She laid hand on his shoulder gently.  "Reaper."

 

A hand caught her wrist in a crushing grip. He was staring at her, coated in sweat and breathing hard. "Sorry," he said and let go.

 

She helped him up into the chair. "What was _that_?"

 

"Nightmare. I have them all the time. Sleeping...sleeping sucks."

 

"Olduvai?" She'd have them too, if she'd gone through that.

 

He gave a short humorless laugh. "Since I was a kid, it's been Olduvai. They're haut getting worse and...different." There it was, in his eyes, that strange thing.

 

Strange eyes? She was one to talk. Grounding herself in reality, she frowned at his empty thousand-yard stare. "We have a chaplin, here, and a counselor..."

 

He didn't hear her. "It's the ruins, like always, and the monsters who were people, like you'd think. But there's a ghost. It's like a ghost of a place. Of what Olduvai was. It's getting more and more real." He looked at her. "It's the end, I think. It was the first end. I'm seeing its ghost in my nightmares."

 

She crouched down so they were at eye level and took his hand. He needed it from someone, and she was here. He just looked at her, with very human eyes that held just the hint of something inhuman.

 

Her phone went off, playing the Army song, her ring tone for Colonel Harren. She reached for it without releasing Grimm's hand and answered it on the speaker. "Sir," she said.

 

"I just received your request, Lieutenant."

 

She waited a moment for him to add anything. He didn't. Her stomach sank. "We need recon, sir, and eyes on are going to be the only viable way."

 

"I agree. The funds for a small ship and supplies I cans spare. But I can't spare any personnel."

 

Damn. They were going to have to wait until something happened. "Yes, sir."

 

"Except yourself and Sergeant Grimm."

 

Shaw focused on the man in her office again. His sleep-deprived traumatized openness was gone, replaced by determination mingled with surprise. They released each other's hands smoothly.

 

"Write an operations order," the Colonel told her, "In two weeks, I want a full briefing. In four, you two will fly for the outer Solar System."

 

Shaw could only look Grimm, who had one on her by not gaping. "Yes, sir."

 

"Good." He hung up.

 

"Space travel and the outer Solar System," Grimm said, "That's new."

 

"Yeah." She returned to her desk "I'll see if I can hurry things along. We need to beat the new module to Europa." She grinned at him. The nightmare was a private thing, she felt, and she'd let it be unless he needed something else. "You might want to hit the spaceflight sim today, soldier."

 

He rolled his eyes. "Marine."


	6. Chapter 6

Erin traced the air in front of the carving. "I think," she said, chewing at her lip, "That these are concentric circles."

 

Sam nodded. "That makes sense. Strange, they usually didn't use concentric circles. Geometric markings, yes, but straight lines, not curves."

 

Both women eyed the carving. Sam had completed the work Adriann had interrupted, revealing a small mark that resembled the potential writing from older steles. Hopefully, it was the name of whatever that small circle represented, though they had no way of knowing.

 

"Ladies," Adriann interrupted from across the room "Perhaps you might want to consult the documentation of where the relief was found?" She gave them a glare from behind her glasses and returned to piecing together metal scraps.

 

Sam almost smacked herself in the forehead. She'd been so used to being the one to find artifacts that she'd forgotten to check what had been written about them. She grabbed the pile of papers on the table and leafed through them.

 

Thurman had found it, a chunk that had fallen from a wall during recent stabilization operations. The wall had been cracked and worn, with almost nothing of note except bits of design. Since stabilizing the dig had been so important, he hadn't bothered to poke at it. He'd intended to, in his write up.

 

Like talking to the dead, almost. Sam sat the papers down for a moment. She was an archeologists. Talking to the dead was what she did. She blinked rapidly and read through the report, figuring the details into her mental map of the Olduvai dig.

 

The wall this piece had apparently come from was centrally located, the back of some kind of market or forum. Sam frowned, tracing the broken curved lines. Some monument? Or just public art?

 

The funny thing was- so funny that she almost broke into hysteric laughter- the funny thing was that it didn't matter. Whatever theory they had would never be confirmed. The explosion John had used to destroy the Ark, and save them all, would have undoubtedly destabilized the dig. It was probably lost, buried under tons of dirt and open to the thin Martian atmosphere.

 

There had been no other choice.

 

A mug of tea was slid under her nose. She looked up to see Adriann hovering. "Thank you."

 

"You looked sad."

 

"Just thinking about the dig, the way it is now. I doubt we'll ever be able to access it again. We'll only ever have scraps."

 

The older woman patted her shoulder.  "Have you seen your brother lately, dear?"

 

No. They'd barely spoken in the week since the dinner party. He just...she remembered him differently. Trying to talk about her work was impossible; he hated Olduvai too much. He was getting drawn increasingly into something he could tell her very little about. And the whole time, she felt like she was being used to get to him.

 

Sam just shrugged in response to Adriann. "He's been busy."

 

"Well, you should try. Family always matters, especially after what you've been through."

 

Sam looked at the carving without seeing it. Maybe. They could start having dinner again. Keep trying. "How are you coming along with those scraps?"

 

"Well, it's beginning to take shape. What that shape is...well. It seems like it might have fitted over a wrist. Very bulky for jewelry, though. Maybe ceremonial, or some mark of office? I'm hardly done yet. The alloy impresses me, though: adamantine."

 

Sam nodded. "We found a lot of scraps of it. Though that's quite a lot of it." She wondered who'd found the pile of scraps. Whoever it was, they'd been very smart of see the pile was really the remains of one thing.

 

Adriann nodded. "Are you feeling better?"

 

"Yes, thank you. Talking about work always helps. As does the tea."

 

Both women smiled and returned to their work.

 

Sam would invite John to dinner after she was done. Maybe, just maybe, things could work out here.

 

* * *

 

 

"So," John said, cautious, "how was your day?"

 

Sam shrugged, spearing as much pasta as possible on her fork. "Oh, you know how research goes. Slow."

 

He really shouldn't have blown up on her about Olduvai. Going into space for months, with only Shaw for company, was going to be...difficult. He'd rather leave on a good foot with Sam.

 

He guessed there was a possibility of refusing the mission, but ten years of following orders made him balk at the idea. On top of that, he'd read all the intel, such as it was. Hack had found more ruins like Olduvai. They didn't need him to find C24, to unleash it for whatever stupid reason.

 

"Learn anything new?" he asked, reaching for his wine glass. Not that he would feel it, but the placebo effect was appreciated.

 

Sam sat her heavily laden fork on the plate and stared thoughtfully the blinds over his shoulder. "Maybe."

 

John raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been expecting that. He had been hoping against it. But he didn't say anything.

 

"A section of a carving. A monument of some kind, or maybe just decoration, but I think it has _writing_ on it."

 

"Okay?" Writing? So what? Mom and dad hadn't found any, but the UAC had been up there a long time, and the excavation was much bigger. They'd probably found some by now.

 

She gave him a stern look. "Near as we can tell, Olduvai didn't have written language."

 

John frowned. That didn't make any sense. Mom's theories on the development of civilization had held that writing was key to major scientific advances. He'd listened to her proof her papers when he was a kid. It was a pretty sound hypothesis. "They built the Ark. They made themselves superhuman.  How could they be illiterate?"

 

"Well, they might have had a written language, but all we can find is some scratches almost as old as the earliest parts of the city. But this carving, it's about as recent as anything else. And there's writing on it. Just one figure, barely there." She tapped the fork against her plate in an irritating rhythm. "It just bothers me."

 

"Why wouldn't they use writing?" John asked. _That_ bothered him.

 

Sam shrugged and finally ate her forkful of pasta. "All electronic, maybe," she said around her food, "They did build the Ark. Their networks and systems went when everything else did. We find places where electronics were, but no sign of the computers themselves but scrap and rust."

 

"Yeah, maybe. But nothing in stone...I don't know, they were at least almost human. Every civilization on Earth likes a nice stone monument every once and awhile."

 

"One of the many mysteries of Olduvai." She heaved a sigh.

 

Yeah, and probably one best left buried on another planet. Still, he had a thought that nagged at him. "When did the writing disappear? Was it before or after C24?"

 

Sam blinked at him for a minute. "You know, you never should have left. It would have vanished right around the threshold zone, I think, the period where some had it and some didn't. We only had less than a dozen evidences of writing, but C24 isn't much younger than Olduvai, only becoming prevalent about a century or so after the earliest ruins."

 

"Maybe C24 changed something that made writing unnecessary." He didn't want to think about it. No longer being able to get drunk was disturbing enough. This thing owned his body enough, and it was in largely enjoyable ways.

 

"Maybe." She shook her head. "Everything seems to lead back to that. I know there was more to Olduvai than _that_."

John devoted himself to his food. He was pretty sure the only thing to Olduvai was that. If there had ever been more, it was long gone. All that remained was C24.

 

At least they were being civil. It was a start. The topic was terrible, but it was almost all they had in common anymore.

 

He wiped his mouth on his napkin. "I'm leaving on a mission in two weeks." Shaw had managed to accelerate the schedule. "In the outer Solar System."

 

Sam stared.

 

"It's just recon. I'll be gone three, four months."

 

"You have no right to criticize me for making dangerous choices," she told him, her voice steely. She rubbed her temples. "I'm guessing you can't tell me why."

 

"No."

 

"Of course not." She wouldn't look at him. "It's all a game. For a Colonel Harren and his people. Just know that."

 

John nodded. Maybe this was progress. Still not the right foot, though.


	7. Chapter 7

In a week, Lieutenant Mar Shaw was probably going to die.

 

Had she trained? Yes. Had she prepared? Yes. Did it matter? No.

 

This was what special operators did. She was sure Colonel Harren was up to something yet again, and she was past the point of no return, and she was going to die in space.

 

She did not trust the pile of junk put together at Orbital Station 5. She did not trust her very rusty tactical skills. She did not trust the intel she had, which was honestly the point of doing this reconnaissance, but that did not help.

 

Thank God she'd had the fortitude not to be afraid until all the planning was over and they were set to go. The fear was a funny thing, in a way, ever-present but somehow surreal. It was the kind of fear that made you go get drunk.

 

Which was exactly her intention. She threw on a ragged jacket over simple civilian clothes and headed towards the O-Club.

 

The seasons were turning from summer to fall. The biting chill of the evening was almost pleasant. She relished the feel of it. It would only be sterile recycled air for months soon enough.

 

At least she'd be going into space to die with a superhuman. She should probably ask him along. Not just because John Grimm was nice to look at, but because it seemed that he might need it, too. He'd been having issues with his sister, and had yet to grow close to anyone else. The shadows under his eyes had been growing darker, too; she'd bet the nightmares were terrible.

 

Misery needed company, after all.

 

Shaw found him at a motorpool, sparring. She'd heard about this, but never seen it. Using her small height to her advantage, she worked her way to the front of the small crowd.

 

A loader exoskeleton stomped dramatically to a few cheers. It was about ten feet tall, dwarfing the man controlling it. Exoskeletons were too delicate for combat, though they were excellent for heavy lifting, being much more maneuverable than a forklift. She'd seen two of them hold up a bridge for whole convoy to cross once.

 

Across from the exoskeleton, arms crossed across his chest, completely unarmed and unimpressed, stood John Grimm.

 

Even knowing his strength, she had a hard time believing he was going hand-to-hand with an exoskeleton. Oh, she'd known he did it. Often. But seeing him standing there...damn.

 

"This time, Reaper, you're going down!" shouted the exoskeleton pilot.

 

Grimm fell into a loose combat stance. "Your buddies said the same thing."

 

The exoskeleton closed the distance with a thundering leap. Grimm was well out of its way by the time it hit. The waist swiveled in a whirling strike with a clamp-like fist.

 

The superhuman caught the arm. The impact had to be jarring; he winced as it pushed him back a few feet. Shaw could envision the deep cracks forming in his bones, healing almost instantly. That had to be excruciating. But he didn't let go, instead changing his grip so he had a better hold.

 

Whoever was responsible for the exoskeleton was going to have a bad and expensive morning.

 

Grimm lunged to the side, twisting the metal arm in his grip. There was a grinding sound as the pilot tried to resist. Things snapped and hissed. The exoskeleton kicked, catching Grimm hard in the chest. He went flying, but somehow landed on his feet.

 

The exoskeleton came stomping over to him, its pilot cursing and it's damaged arm dragging behind it. Grimm gave a hard smile and rushed his foe.

 

Instead of hitting, he reached into the open cockpit and tore something out. The exoskeleton's stop half began to whirl very fast, its legs planted firmly on the ground. Grimm went flying, while the pilot probably wished he had.

 

Someone hit the remote kill switch for the exoskeleton as Grimm got back to his feet. He went over to help the pilot out of the cockpit. The man was covered in vomit. He might even have soiled himself. Meanwhile, money changed hands in the crowd.

 

Some of the soldiers congratulated Grimm, exchanging careful backslaps. He laughed and answered in kind before turning to go.

 

He spotted her and seemed to grin even wider. "Impressive, huh?"

 

"Ridiculous, at least." She watched the mechanics hook up the exoskeleton to a truck and drag it off. " _Maybe_ impressive."

 

They stood in silence and watched the soldiers disperse. Several spoke to Grimm as they passed, just quick greetings and typical evening well-wishes. He seemed to radiate contentment, or something like it.

 

"Civvies," he said once the crowd was gone, "Some undercover mission?"

 

"I'm headed to the O-Club. You're invited, if you'd like."

 

He raised both eyebrows in surprise. "What's the occasion?"

 

"One week to go." Shaw started in the direction of the booze. He kept stride easily.

 

Night was sinking into the woods, silencing the birds. A coyote howled somewhere nearby. Pine needles crunched under their feet. She didn't like to think about how these things would soon be many thousands of miles distant.

 

Grimm thankfully didn't say anything as they made their way to the dim yellow lights of the club. He did not look impressed as they entered. "I thought the Army had better bars than this."

 

It was, indeed...cozy. In another life it had probably been a small garage or storage shed. The lights were the kind used to illuminate some outdoor site, and stood glaring harshly from the corners. People huddled in ones on chairs cobbled together from a dozen other places. One lonesome civilian, a pockmarked pasty kid, stood looking bored at a makeshift bar.

 

Shaw dragged a pair of tall bar stools over to the bar. They looked to have been welded together from scrap a long time ago. Grimm sat without trouble; Shaw had to maneuver a bit, which would probably be interesting after some alcohol.

 

The bartender looked at her for a moment, then poured her a glass of whiskey. He did the same for Grimm. Shaw watched him eye the drink, then shrug before taking a hearty swig.

 

"Technically, that's sipping whiskey." She followed suit, enjoying the swift hard burn down her throat. It'd hit her blood soon enough, and she would think less of the future.

 

He took another drink and shook his head. "This?"

 

She grinned behind her glass. "The definition of sipping whiskey depends on the bar."

 

"And you know that how?"

 

"It's the Army. There's usually a bar somewhere."

 

He polished off the drink. The bartender, bored but attentive, poured him another. Her companion gave her a worried look, but thankfully didn't say anything. Shaw didn't need comfort. She didn't even really need company. She was going to die in space, on a mission she honestly didn't belong on, which she didn't have the skills for, because her boss was playing some game that undoubtedly involved her parents; she didn't want to think about it, she wanted to get drunk on cheap whiskey within sight of an attractive man and then curl up on her own and sleep the resultant hangover off.

 

As befitted a well-trained, disciplined young Army officer, she proceeded to follow this plan. They talked. He recounted how he came to fighting men in exoskeletons. He had an impressive win record (16-0) and a nice voice.

 

At some point she noticed that Grimm seemed entirely sober. Perhaps sensitivity to mind-altering substances was genetic. She finished her glass, as did he, and noticed the bartender looking at him in shock.

 

Well, at least she wasn't _that_ strange. "You are sober," she pointed out.

 

He frowned. "Side effect of C24. I'll never get drunk again. Like to. Can't."

 

Ah. Of course. If sedatives didn't work, alcohol wouldn't either. "That sucks," she informed him. He nodded, smiling slightly. Haha, yes, she was a drunk woman, very funny. "So why exoskeletons?"

 

"Challenge. When I was training for RRTS, they pitted my squad of candidates against one, armed with some ropes and some large rocks. Teamwork drill. We needed to restrain it. We managed, barely, and one guy ended up with a broken pelvis. All of us broke or dislocated something. I wanted to see if, now, I could do it on my own."

 

"Sixteen times over?"

 

"Different pilots wanted to try. I guess they face off after hours against each other pretty often. Illicit rock-em, sock-em robot fights, with their own brackets and championships. I brought something new to the mix." He rotated his glass slowly. "And it was good to be around Mari...warriors, again."

 

She laughed aloud at how he caught himself. "You belong there."

 

"Depends on who you ask."

 

"I saw you earlier. You belong there."

 

"It's where I'm happy, anyway." An elephant or two moved into the room. The man had a train of them, and Shaw kept running into them. It was getting harder to walk around them, too. And it wasn't fair to him to keep trying, though she didn't know what to do.

 

"Then stay," she said, neither wrestling the elephant nor maneuvering around it, just standing on it. Pachyderms were a stupid metaphor-allegory-symbol-thing, so she decided to quit using it forever. "Well, not physically, we leave in..." she looked at her phone..."Six days, so you'll have to got to space, but keep being the person who belongs here, among warriors." Ugh, space again. She really should not drink more. Hangovers could be slept off only to a point.

 

Grimm said something to the bartender and slid a water bottle in front of her. When she stared at it for a second, he sighed and untwisted the cap before putting it into her hands. She kicked him hard in the leg. She got the idea when she saw the water bottle; her reflexes were just not at all up to speed.

 

That, after all, had been the plan.

 

He grabbed another two water bottles as she drained her one and guided her from the barstool. His leg seemed unaffected. Normally she would bruise. Maybe she had, since he healed instantaneously.

 

Instantaneously. What a fun word. Okay, more water. She grabbed another water bottle from him. He guided her towards the door, which she conceded was necessary and so did not stomp on his foot.

 

The chilly air was refreshing, though not really sobering. She nearly ran into a tree, but Grimm- she felt inclined to call him John, but wouldn't- steered her away from it.

 

They arrived outside the building where her quarters were. No elevator, but she could handle stairs. Especially of no was watching, so she could crawl if she needed to.

 

"You good?"

 

"For now. I'll get there fine, thanks."

He turned in the direction of his own quarters. "If you're sure..."

 

Something should be floating through her mind, but she couldn't tell what it was. Oh well. "It's not the first time I've needed to do this. I'll be late tomorrow." He nodded and headed away. "Thanks for the water bottle!" she called after him. He laughed quietly.

 

All according to plan. The hangover would be a bitch. She crinkled the nearly empty water bottle and smiled as she headed back home.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam scowled at the hand-drawn map. She was not good at maps. It didn't help that Adriann's handwriting was _terrible_.

 

"Just look for the wooden water tower," Adriann said, "The shuttle pad should be right behind it." There was a pause. "If you don't mind my asking, why do you need to go there? It doesn't get used often, and the new artifacts are coming this morning. By truck, might I add."

 

"Oh, my brother is on a mission to Luna City."

 

Adriann blinked rapidly. She really should get more modern glasses. Her eyes looked ridiculous. "Well, then, I'll have some tea ready for you when you get back."

 

Sam gave the older woman a gentle smile. Tea was her answer to every emotional distress. "Thanks. It should be fine."

 

"Nonetheless, tea. And we should have the new artifacts by the time you get in. Straight from the UAC's vaults." She leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial stage whisper, "Wonder how they plucked those from their grasp."

 

"It probably just means they're useless."

 

"If the UAC thought there was something to them, they can't be completely useless. They're too tight with money to keep something with no value."

 

"Hopefully. I should get going."

 

"Of course! Oh, and when you get back, I'd like to discuss my progress with that metal object. You might have some insight."

 

"Definitely," Sam said, snatching up her jacket, "I shouldn't be too long." She hurried out of the lab. The day had been going some hours now for the military personnel, though it wasn't much past ten, and pedestrians and vehicles were everywhere.

 

Sam found one of the cart-like trams and hopped on board. The driver took off at full speed as soon as she was seated, bouncing off the slightly uneven terrain. She hated these things. Most people seemed to. But the shuttle pad was just too far to walk. At the end of the world, it felt like.

 

John would be fine. Recon, he'd said. That would keep him out of anyone's clutches for a while, if nothing else.

 

As soon as she saw the water tower, she shouted for the driver to stop. He did for just long enough for her to get clear before racing off again.

 

Sam watched as a shuttle roared in above. She ran towards the big concrete square nearby, stopping at the fence. She could see a group of people clustered across the way, all watching the shuttle set down gently.

 

She was going to miss him. What kind of sister was she?

 

"Sam!" John came jogging from the group. "I was wondering if you'd make it."

 

"Sorry I'm so late. It's kind of out of the way."

 

"No problem. C'mon, gate's this way."

 

She followed him towards a gap. Not even guards. They really didn't use this place often. "Are you ready?"

 

He shrugged as they walked over to the others. "I've done some space flight before. Training missions. Never long term, though."

 

Very few people had. Space flight was expensive and slow; one of the major reasons to study Olduvai had been the hope of replicating the Ark. If they could build a portal, it would be much easier to travel and colonize to other worlds. "They're putting you into cryo, I hope. Three months in a box is a long time."

 

He nodded. "We'll be about a day in Luna, and then they'll freeze us for the journey out to Jupiter."

 

She shuddered. Cryogenic hibernation was perfectly safe for a two year time period, she knew. There had certainly been enough studies. But still...ugh. "Just make sure all the equipment is ready beforehand."

 

"I've been frozen, before, too. I know what I'm doing." He rolled his eyes. "We trained for just about everything."

 

"Just being your _sister_ , John."

 

"I know."

They stood watching several crates being loaded up, supervised by a small brown-haired woman in civilians. Sam didn't realize it was Shaw until she turned to look at them, her eyes unmistakeable. "Is she going with you?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Another game, some way of manipulating John. He wouldn't be alone, no, but he would be with one of them. Sam tried to keep her outrage from her place as Shaw came over. "Wilson and Tardiff have vanished from the face do the Earth, again," she told John, "One of those very expensive UAC scenic tours left the moon this morning. Two and two make four."

 

"Headed for Europa?"

 

"Saturn, but they may make a hop. I don't know. It may be nothing." She nodded at Sam. "Nice to see you again, Dr. Grimm. I hear you're getting more artifacts today."

 

"We are."

 

"I hope they'll be of some use. I'm surprised anyone would let go of anything from Olduvai. Museums, collectors, the black market, they all want a piece of what's left. The prices are incredibly high."

 

"Every bit counts."

 

John scowled deeply. "It's all just best forgotten."

 

Sam was getting used to this sort of thing from him, so she ignored it, looking at the shuttle instead. A loading exoskeleton was stalking away. All the crates were on board. "How long will you be gone?"

 

Shaw answered. "Seven or eight months."

 

Sam gulped and nodded, hugging her jacket around herself. She looked at John seriously, trying to soften the expression with a smile. "Next year, then, we need to have Christmas together. It's been a long time."

 

He nodded. They stared at each other a moment, and then he swept her up in a hug. "I promise," he said, releasing her.

 

Desperately trying not to cry, she waved him off towards the shuttle. Shaw nodded at her before starting to follow. "Keep him safe," Sam told her, trying to put as much iron into her voice as possible.

 

"I will."

 

Sam stayed until the shuttle doors closed, then walked back to the lab.

 

* * *

 

Luna City reminded John too much of Olduvai.

 

He knew that the Martian colony had been based on the one on the Moon, but he hadn't realized how much. The shuttle port opened up into an atrium that was only different from Olduvai in scale. The officials all wore the same uniforms as the Olduvai officials. The doors even opened and closed with the same sounds.

 

His nightmares would be worse, he was sure of it. He didn't remember dreaming in cryo during training, but that had only been for a week. He'd be sure to ask the technicians.

 

Their guide, apparently thinking them normal visitors, continued to ramble on. "While in Luna City, we ask that you refrain from littering and throw all trash into the appropriate receptacle. All things are recycled here, a necessary aspect of residing on the harsh lunar surface..."

 

He was immensely grateful for the bright yellow Subway sign that suddenly marred the silver lines of the atrium as they turned a corner, He stopped and stared at it for a second. Shaw, clearly suppressing a laugh, dragged him away from it. "What? Shocked?" she asked as they continued to follow the guide, who hadn't noticed the delay.

 

"Just so...not Olduvai."

 

Civilians passed in a hurry, dressed for work. They'd arrived at the start of the lunar work day. The atrium was bustling, and he could see vendors and shopkeepers opening up. It was a normal city, John realized. Could Olduvai have been this?

 

Their guide led them at an office with the words 'Welcome to the Moon!" across its front.  "Please enjoy your stay in Luna City, whether it's for a few days or a lifetime," their guide said without inflection, "Our city is a marvel of human achievement, and a great place to work or play. The staff at the Welcome Center will make sure you find exactly what you're looking for." And then he left.

 

"That means we go in, right?" John asked.

 

"Well, our contact is inside." He followed her in.

 

A cheerful secretary saw Shaw and directed them instantly to a Mr. Kevinson. Shaw shook her head. "Always the eyes," she muttered.

 

Kevinson's office was in the back. Kevinson looked up as they entered. "Ah, Lieutenant Shaw. Sergeant Grimm. I was hoping you'd be early." His voice had a strange slow almost-accent, with lots of deep breaths. He was a very tall, very thin, very pale man. "The gravity here is terrible. I don't understand how you people stand it."

 

"A lifetime of practice," Shaw replied, reaching her hand out.

 

The gravity certainly seemed fine to John...Kevinson stood to shake Shaw's hand, using a pair of crutches, and then it made sense. The man had been born on the Moon, in some suburb that didn't use artificial gravity. He tried not to stare as he gently shook the moonman's hand. He'd never met a colonial native before. His proportions seemed all wrong. Very human, but off.

 

"Let's get this started," Kevinson said. He remained standing on his crutches until the two earthlings sat, "It's a good thing you hired my firm. We can get you out, safely, as barely a blip in the UAC's radar. And back in, I might add. We might even be better at that."

 

"People are a little bit more delicate than precious minerals, Mr. Kevinson."

 

"I enjoy a challenge. And you have my word."

 

Shaw nodded, leaning forward. Her one leg was bouncing up and down. John had a sudden urge to reach out and gently stop it. Okay, bring on cryo. Some good, long, dreamless sleep. "So, under the UAC's radar, you say?" she asked.

 

Kevinson nodded. "You bet. Well, not perfectly under it. Under it in such a way they won't notice." He grinned. His teeth were brilliant white- artificial. Less gravity meant less bone density meant human teeth wouldn't be up to normal abuse. Bizarre. "They may own Luna City spaceport, but we have been here before they even existed."

 

"True. But I know your firm is _very_ focused on wealth. And I know the UAC wants to own all space traffic."

 

Kevinson waved the concern dramatically away with a long delicate hand. "I am a small businessman, whatever other terms you may have heard. So I slide under the red tape here and there, but that doesn't meant I'm dishonorable. A contract is a contract, even one written up in a hurry. We'll do our best for you, ma'am. That's how we do things, at least as long as I'm around."

 

Shaw's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. It wasn't like they had a choice. "We're eager to get started, then."

 

"And I'm quite eager to get out of this office. Playing tourism official is very boring, and utterly unprofitable. Enjoy the city- somehow- until about...oh, eighteen hundred." He pulled out a fairly bulky phone and handed it to Shaw. He picked up a brown fedora off the desk. "I'll send a crawler out this way for you and have them give you a call. Have all your stuff out by Tranquility Airlock. You'll be on your way by midnight."

 

Kevinson saw them to the door, clearly hating the crutches, his breathing very hard all the way. He could probably never function on Earth.

 

"Enjoy your stay. We look forward to having you over," he said at the exit, his almost-accent heavily emphasized. He looked over to the secretary "I'm off to make sure our guests have the best place to stay at Armstrong. Please give anyone else my number."

 

The woman laughed and bade them farewell. Kevinson rolled his eyes as the exited and put on his hat. "No one ever calls from there, but I have to say it. Eighteen hundred."

 

"We won't be late," Shaw said. Kevinson tipped his fedora at them and made his way through the crowd at a pretty good clip.

 

"All the best work, done by the dark of the Moon," Shaw said, shaking her head, "So, food?"

 

They'd be on a diet of ration bars and space goo soon enough. "Yeah. Let's find a good restaurant."

 

 

* * *

 

Normally, mission prep did not go like this. It was much more tense. Lots of rehearsals. Lots of yelling.

 

This time, John was reclined against their crate, his belly full, pondering a nap. Shaw was perched on top of the crate, eating ice cream for some reason. Both of them were looking out the window at historical Tranquility Base, lovingly preserved down to the footprints.

 

The observation windows seemed familiar. Had they had a family trip up here when he was a kid? He mulled over the timeline of his life, trying to fit it in.

 

He didn't remember Luna City at all, though. Not that there was much distinct about it, besides being on the Moon. People lived and worked and played here, just like Albuquerque and Phoenix and Los Angeles. Man had tamed the Moon. He wondered what the men who'd landed at Tranquility Base would have thought of that.

 

Shaw sighed contentedly above him, probably having finished her ice cream. "There's the crawler," she muttered.

 

With some effort, he got to his feet. A big, tank-like vehicle came rolling to the airlock. The treads left new marks in the fine dust, criss-crossing numerous others. The only place untouched was beyond the barrier to Tranquility Base. John wondered if the rest of the Moon was that covered in tracks.

 

The airlock clicked and hissed as the vehicle hooked up to it. A earth-normal man was standing on the other side of the door when it opened. "You're Kevinson's?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Shaw said.

 

"Alright. Help me move your gear."

 

The three of them dragged the crate aboard and secured it near the door. Both John and Shaw stumbled as they moved to a couple of seats. Things felt...weird, suddenly. The driver chuckled. "Make sure you strap in. It's not a rough ride, but you clearly don't have your Moon-legs." He moved to the cockpit in long, graceful strides as they followed his advice. The door shut. More clicks and hisses and the vehicle rolled smoothly forward.

 

There were no windows, so they were left to stare across at each other. They'd barely spoken all day for no other reason than that it was just a quiet sort of day. "I guess the gravity bubble doesn't extend very far out," Shaw said.

 

"It takes a lot of energy to power it."

 

She nodded and relaxed into her seat. The mixed eyes stared blankly over his shoulder.

 

"You okay?" he asked.

 

"I shouldn't be on this mission. Not my skill set. Also not my call." She looked directly at him. Her blue eye practically glowed in the dim light. "Thank you for the day."

 

It wasn't like he'd been paying for anything; all funds had come from the Department of Defense. "You're welcome. It was...nice."

 

"Strange to see that kind of life."

 

"Especially on the moon."

 

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked, suddenly.

 

"No dreams in cryo, right?"

 

"So I'm told."

 

"Then, yeah. I'll be okay. Do this, get back, figure out a normal life." Christmas with Sam, with family...he'd like that. He used to spend Christmas with the guys. It had been fun, but also almost a parody. He'd like a tree, for once, and a dinner that wasn't take-out. Stupid, sappy things, yeah, but whatever. He'd like them.

 

"Sounds good to me." She leaned back and shut her eyes, breathing evening out as she drifted off. John stayed awake, not wanting to dream.


	9. Chapter 9

Kevinson's enterprise was located in what seemed to be his hometown of Armstrong, a small low-grav complex a few miles out. The crawler was gone as soon as it dropped them off, leaving Shaw and Grimm to wrestle with trying to walk from the airlock.

 

Kevinson himself came loping around a corner after a few minutes. "Sorry," he said, "These operations are always complex. I meant to be waiting for you."

 

"As long as it goes smoothly, we'll be fine," Shaw told him.

 

"Of course. We'll get your crate-just one? Utilitarian little venture, this will be- load it up. Follow me and Ally will check you out." When they both gave a dubious look at the hallway, he chuckled. "People who were born to Earth grav tell me it's like skipping. Move carefully. You'll get the hang of it."

 

The earthlings exchanged a look. John took a deep breath and made the first leap. Shaw followed, keeping pace, though neither of them could really keep up with Kevinson. And stopping was...interesting. He'd have been a bruised wreck if he was anyone else. Shaw, fortunately, was luckier with catching herself.

 

They were met in the medical bay by young moonwoman who looked to be related to Kevinson. She gestured to a chair. "Hello. I'm Ally Kevinson, the local medic. One of you, sit. I'm just going to get a snapshot of your vitals and take some blood- all clearly stipulated by your contract, which we have on hand. We need a baseline for safe cryo."

 

Shaw gave John a nod and then sat, holding out her left arm. The medic quickly took her blood pressure and heart rate. As the moonwoman readied to draw blood, Shaw said, "Please be sure to remember that Sergeant Grimm has a condition. A summary was included in the documents we sent you."

 

The medic nodded as she stuck Shaw. "I'm aware. Weird-ass allergy to have, but we prepared as best we could within budget."

 

With Shaw bandaged up, John took her seat. Shaw remained at his shoulder as he rolled his sleeve up. The medic didn't seem to see anything strange in his blood pressure or heart beat, but then she went to draw his blood.

 

It was excruciating from the first prick. John grit his teeth. Shaw grasped his shoulder. The other woman was cursing as she worked the needle into his flesh. "Not adamantine," Shaw muttered, "I'm sorry, John. It's going to hurt. Your body is going to try to reject the needle the way it tries to reject a thorn."

 

Like the bullet on Olduvai. "Sam left this experiment out," he growled.

"She didn't want to take your blood, and I told her it wasn't something you wanted to be conscious for."

 

It wasn't. He desperately wanted to squirm away, but he knew that would only make it worse. He was a Marine. He could take pain.

 

"Jesus!" Ally Kevinson shouted as the syringe filled up, " _What_ is in his blood?"

 

John followed her gaze to the syringe and blanched. Shaw gripped his shoulder tighter.

 

There were chunks of thick black something in his blood. He remembered Sam mentioning the black substance in Carmack's blood during their debrief. Carmack, who had turned into a demon.

 

The medic withdrew the needle carefully. The agonizing pain vanished, along with all sign of a wound. "A condition. No kidding." She sat the sample far from her on the counter. "I'll, ah, be careful with that one."

 

Kevinson- her father, to judge by age- frowned at the sample but let it be. "If you're done, daughter dearest, I'm going to give them the basics of their transport."

 

They were waved out of the medical bay. Kevinson led them past several other moonmen and women loping along. "Our facilities are a bit sparse," he told them, as he keyed in a code to a very big door, "but they're plenty safe, I assure you."

 

Too late for concerns now, John thought. The door opened to reveal several spaceships. The cockpits were a little bigger than a shuttle, covered in heavy shielding. The engines and fuel tanks, however, comprised the bulk of the vehicles, and were huge. John had seen ships before, but it was different when you were about to take off in one. One engine alone was as big as an RRTS chopper; each ship had three. Everything was shielded, but he could tell that all excess had been stripped off. Lighter weight, less fuel.

 

Kevinson explained, in esoteric detail, the features of the ship they were taking out. He led them through its ins and outs. "I'll be your contact. I'll be able to patch you to your boss, but the UAC owns the secure Moon-Earth comm relays. If you want them not to notice you, that probably wouldn't be the best way."

 

Shaw nodded. "I'll give you more secure contact info."

 

"Well, then." Kevinson tapped on the pilot's keyboard. "Welcome to the _Harbinger_ _of the Burning Sun_. That's her last clean ID, anyway. IFF was updated according to UAC procedure this afternoon."

 

"Ready when you are," John said.

 

"I'd offer you dinner, but cryo is best on an empty stomach," Kevinson said, "But I feel safe in offering hot chocolate. Hopefully that will tide you over while Ally uploads her results into the cryo chambers. That'll help you sleep soundly."

 

Shaw smiled. "Lead the way."

 

Kevinson gave them each a mug of hot chocolate at the edge of the spaceport and regaled them with the history of Armstrong, which might have been used to make cryo chambers redundant. For such a small place, it certainly had its share of history. Dull, dull history. Finally, Ally came to get them.

 

She led them to the _Harbinger's_ cryo chamber, a tiny room containing two metal tubes. "Strip," she ordered, "You don't want to be frozen with clothes on. Trust me."

 

John turned away from Shaw and obeyed. He could hear her doing the same, but refused to even sneak a glance. Ally, appearing clinically uninterested, came to get their clothes. "These will be here when you wake up, don't worry. Now, please step into your chambers."

 

John looked dubiously at the metal tube. It looked like a coffin. He took a deep breath and walked inside, turning so he was reclined against the angled back. The hatch swooped shut, making him jump.

 

Ally's voice echoed strangely through the intercom. "Just relax. It's a big long nap. Start counting backwards from one hundred..ninety-nine..ninety-eight...nighty-seven..."

 

She got to eighty-seven before John went out, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Concentric lines. Well, arcing lines. They were almost all Sam could think about. They consumed her dreams.

 

The new artifacts had come with another relief, smaller but very similar to the first one. She had cleaned it up as best she could, revealing the arcs, but there was no circle on them. If this was a fraction of the same image, the scale was different, the lines closer together. Sam set up to scan both pieces. She could see if the smaller one matched up by scaling it up digitally. If it did, it was probably coincidence, but she had a hunch.

 

 Adriann and the others were on the other side of the room, murmuring over new twisted fragments of adamantine. One might possibly have been a motherboard of some sort, but it was so warped and degraded it was impossible to tell.

 

That was one of the many frustrating things about Olduvai. The Ark was incredibly advanced, and a computer ran it, though it had been so well integrated into the structure that no one had dared open it up for fear of damaging the transport. The software had just been so badly degraded they had been lucky the thing worked at all, and luckier still it got most people to Mars in once piece. Every day, the Ark had brought in personnel and supplies, while transporting others back. Yet they hardly knew a thing about it.

 

Sam watched the scans upload, remembering her first time through the Ark. She and John had been nine. They'd held each other as they puked their guts out, and then they'd looked around.

 

The Ark had just been in a cave, the bright silver of its circle the only shiny thing. Bright excavation lights made it gleam. It looked a lot like the Earth side had, at the time. An archeologist working at an archway hadn't even looked up at the activation.

 

Mom and Dad, who'd gone through first, had helped them up and comforted them. They were on another world! Wasn't that amazing? And it had been. So amazing. That whole year had been just one small wonder after another.

 

After the accident, the Grimm twins had seen the UAC redo the Ark chamber and the great atrium in shining modern silver and hard angles. The original chamber hadn't really held any secrets. It seemed to have been hastily carved, devoid of decoration or cultural significance. They'd known the Ark was one of the newest things in Olduvai, clearly one of the last things built before the collapse. They were lucky it had held up over the millennia.

 

She could see its construction in her mind's eye, desperate people burrowing further into the rock, using whatever resources they could to build the Ark, the monsters clawing at their desperate barricades, their city consumed by their twisted brethren. They must have sent a ship to Earth to build that side. One last desperate attempt to survive.

 

The scan finished, and she carefully adjusted the images to have the same size.

 

She grinned in victory as she overlaid the smaller on the larger. The distances between the arcs matched perfectly. Except...she zoomed in on the upper left corner. That one started to have a different, wider curve. So much for a hunch.  She shifted the images so they were at an angle next to each other.

 

Not concentric circles. Maybe, _maybe_ concentric ellipses.

 

Why this motif? Was it that common, or was it just a coincidence, just a sort of pattern they'd liked, as the Greeks had liked their columns?

 

And did every variation have circles on at least one ring, with writing in it?

 

Sam walked over to the vault, wondering if the other stone pieces might have the pattern, too. More worn, maybe, or smaller pieces. God knew they'd been given a ton.

 

"Samantha!" Erin called, "Come see this!"

 

Adriann pulled a sheet away as Sam approached her desk. The adamantine arm ring was there, more or less complete. Some fragments were too warped to really piece together. "I know you thought jewelry the other day-" Sam honestly had just wanted to be left alone and given a pat answer- "but Erin found this in the new artifacts."

 

The petite woman happily held out a glass dish with what looked to be two busted links of chain. They'd been pulled out of shape, but it was instantly obvious that this had been a very heavy chain. The metal had the adamantine silver glitter to it, as would be expected. She gestured to what looked like an anchor point on the band. "It was a _shackle_ ," Erin told her, excited, "the first evidence of their criminal justice system."

 

"A very _large_ shackle," Adriann added, circling the the thing with a finger. It was about ten inches in diameter. "No evidence points to the Olduvai people being bigger than a human being. Maybe it was for some kind of animal."

 

It wasn't. Sam felt sick. It wasn't for an animal. She knew what it was for.

 

Jim came over, looking smug. He gently laid four large battered squares of metal next to links. "Anchor points, probably one for each limb. Documentation puts all the pieces in the same tiny chamber near what could have been a medical facility, including the cuff."

 

"Mental patients?" Erin asked, shaking her head, "And here we keep thinking an advanced civilization might outgrow barbarism."

 

Sam hoped desperately all the blood had been worn away from those things. The monster they had once restrained had probably torn its way out. She wondered if it had been an experiment like the UAC's, or an attempt to stop the mutation.

 

"Still," Adriann said, "a coherent, identifiable metal object from Olduvai! There's never been one before! The only thing better would be a computer, or bones. I need to start...oh, molecular analysis, scans from different angles, analysis of the warped points...maybe the metal pieces we received are the other shackles!"

 

Sam gave her a small smile, desperately wishing the tall woman would sense her distress and bring tea. "Congratulations."

 

"Any luck with that relief?"

 

She nodded. "I think they might be pieces from the different sizes of same image. And they're not concentric circles, I think, but nesting ellipsoids. I need to see if there are more." She wished the dig still existed.

 

Her gaze fell on the shackle as she turned toward the vault. Her imagination was overactive today; she could see John strapped down in those things, struggling while shadowy men approached with neon syringes. 

 

No, Olduvai could stay destroyed.


	10. Chapter 10

The city was a ruin.

 

The city was caving in.

 

And the city was whole.

 

The lines of Olduvai were blurry and chaotic, caught between horrors. Figures in the dimness ran and attacked and screamed and snarled. He could hear his buddies' voices and cries among them. He could hear Mom and Dad screaming as the roof caved in.

 

One person stopped in front of him. A man. The face was all wrong, like a cross between an elf and a Neanderthal. Indistinct and ancient eyes stared right at him, and the man spoke.

 

The sound ripped at his ears, made him feel like he was bleeding out of his eyes. He screamed, begging for an end, but the the man kept speaking, shouting, even. He reached out and clawed at John's arm, drawing thick rivers of red blood mixed with the terrible black chunks of Hell.

 

The pain and the shouting blended into the sounds and suffering of the in-between Olduvai, and John woke up, stumbling forward blindly and _absolutely_ _fucking_ _freezing_.

 

He dropped to his knees and began dry heaving.

 

The 'no dreams in cryo' must not be strictly true. At least it was finally over. "Shaw," he managed. She didn't answer. "LT."

 

He struggled to his feet, his legs feeling weak. Cautiously, he turned to see...Shaw's chamber still sealed. She was still frozen.

 

Shit.

 

John found his clothes, but his skin felt so raw that he wrapped himself in a blanket instead, then stumbled over to the pilot's console. A few quick taps on the controls revealed how long he'd been out.

 

Two weeks. Just two weeks. Every system checked out fine, nearly as he could tell, including his cryo chamber. He couldn't understand all the diagnostics.

 

With a sinking feeling, he sent out the call to Kevinson.

 

It took a minute to get a response. "I was hoping you were still alive," said the moonman's voice, "The _Harbinger_ sent us an alert. I guess the drugs wore off somehow."

 

Fuck. His system had probably processed the drug-bearing mist very fast.  Without the special drug cocktail in a person's system, the cryo process would kill them. The chamber had kicked him out when it saw his vitals spike.  He remembered the mention of failsafes from training. They were rarely used, if ever, but he was glad of them now.

 

"It's going to be a long, boring trip," he said.

 

The pause was very long this time. "Ally says could reenter the chamber after two days. Your vitals will settle. You probably won't be out longer, but it would be better than losing your mind to isolation." Kevinson's voice was grim. He'd probably seen men lose their minds to the void. "Don't open the shielding on the windows. Staring at space tends to...be not a good idea. You're past anything interesting, anyway."

 

John nodded pointlessly. "Got it."

 

He scrounged around for a book, a magazine, anything to do for a few days, managing to find a notebook and pen some previous occupant had left. It was full of scribbles about asteroid mineral content for a few pages, but most were blank.

 

He stared at it for a minute. He should write Sam, fill in some of ten year gap. Explain himself, maybe. Parts of it would be easier to tell this way.

 

Clicking the pen a few times, he started to describe arriving on the Earth side of the Ark when he was eighteen, his first time on the planet since before their parents died.

 

* * *

 

"How did you know it was a medical facility?"

 

Sam jumped, though Jim hadn't really surprised her. She'd been staring blankly at her notebook, thousands of miles away, on the edge of feeling emotions not hers. It had always been an overwhelming sensation.

 

She looked over at her fellow archeologist, who was looking at her expectantly. "Medical facility?" she repeated, trying to collect her thoughts.

 

He gestured at the table in front of him. "Where you said all these and the shackle were from." He was working on cataloging all the adamantine pieces. They'd had two new shipments in the past weeks, sources listed as unknown, which probably meant they'd come from the black market. Metal was rare, mostly scrap, and the other three were fascinated by it.

 

She probably should have said they from Large Complex #6, which was what the tags said. But no, she'd slipped and called it a medical facility.

 

"Layout and central location," she told him, "really an educated guess." She felt the lie tense in her throat. The real reason, of course, was the bones they'd found there. The dead had been lain out in one room after another, all bearing signs of immense violence- some internal strife, Sam had theorized once, not knowing just how accurate that was. Other skeletons had been found hiding, desperate. Lucy had been found in a corner closet.

 

They'd done a terrible amount of rationalization for what they'd found. Something horrible had happened, and it was C24 that had captured their attention.

 

That was buried and lost under the Martian dirt. She shook her head and turned her attention to her work.

 

Tucked away in the shipments, jumbled in sealed bags with rocky fragments that offered nothing, she'd found four more pieces of the concentric ellipsoid image. Different scales, different locations, some carvings, others reliefs..different names on their documentation- Willits, Carmack....

 

Just their names left, now. Just these tiny precise tags attached to stone and metal. If she thought about it too long, she couldn't think about anything else, so she didn't think about it.

 

Each piece had come from what had once been a highly traveled location. Whatever the complete image was, it had immense cultural significance. And Sam had found one of them, one as big as serving platter, had another circle in it, with a different geometric sigil inside. It had been located at an amphitheater.

 

Sam had scanned the pieces and arranged them into what seemed to be their proper pattern. They had lain on a large table for days like that, and she couldn't do much but stare at them. What had this been? Why had it mattered to the Olduvai people so much?

 

"What do you think you've found, dear?" Adriann asked, leaning over her shoulder to look at the pieces.

 

"Art...a religious icon...I don't know. It was culturally important. These circles have writing in them."

 

Adriann lifted her thick glasses to peer at the circles in question. "If you say so. The adamantine doesn't interest you?"

 

"Ruined computers and chains? Not really. The three of you have it covered, anyway."

 

Adriann clicked her tongue and held up a mug of tea. Sam wanted to laugh, for the first time in what felt like ages. "Oh, come on. You aren't going to figure out anything from staring at the thing longer, not today. You need more pieces to make any sense of it."

 

Sam looked over her work. "True."

 

"Then follow me. I want your forensic opinion on that shackle."

 

Well, as much as she hated the thing, it was just a piece of metal, and a useless one at that. Sam stood and grabbed the tea mug. "I'll see what I can figure out."

 

"I'm hoping you'll be able to help me figure out how it was so twisted. Even before it fell to pieces, it seems to have been badly mangled."

 

Academic pleasantries. She'd missed them. "I'm not Sherlock Holmes, but I'll try."


	11. Chapter 11

When Shaw quit dry heaving, someone threw a blanket in her direction. She weakly reached out and somehow curled it around herself.

 

A moment later, Grimm crouched in front of her. "You okay?"

 

He dressed very fast. "About as well as I expected. You?"

 

 "I've been in and out of cryo for months."

 

She blinked, attempting to make sense of that. "Huh?"

 

He shrugged. "Superhuman."

 

The idea processed slowly. He'd been alone on a spaceship in the depths of the void. Good God. "Seriously, are you okay?"

 

"Very tired of cryo."

 

"Sorry. We should have seen it coming. In and out, thought?"

 

"Took about two weeks for me to activate the chamber's failsafe. According to Kevinson, I had to wait two days before I could reenter. Sometimes I'd wait more." He looked tired as hell.

 

Shaw wanted to comfort him, but she didn't have the strength. All of her skin felt like a burst blister. Her muscles were trembling just sitting. "So have we arrived at Jupiter. Or were you so bored you had to wake me up too?"

 

Grimm's exhaustion dropped away, replaced by childish excitement. "We're here. You have to see this."

 

He carefully helped her up and turned her towards the cockpit windows. She leaned against the wall and just stared.

 

Jupiter filled their view, impossibly massive. Light and shadow slashed across its striped and roiling surface in vivid contrast. She pointed shakily at one particular storm. "The Great Red Spot. That's the Great Red Spot."

 

Her companion nodded, just as wide eyed. "Yeah."

 

 _This_. This was what Man wanted when he desired to sail the void. He wanted to be able to point out the Great Red Spot through his front window.

 

She locked the moment in her heart, because it was just too wonderful to be forgotten, cold, weak, and raw as she felt.

 

They stared quietly for a long time, until Shaw somehow found out how to tear away and go to the pilot's console. She pulled up their place relative to Europa Station. "We're about a week out from Europa. We'll have to fly the rest of the way. Autopilot won't take us any closer."

 

Grimm just nodded, still caught up in staring at the planet.

 

"Let's hit up one of the asteroid stations between here and there, get a real meal." Another nod. She wanted to tease him about how obsessed he seemed, but she just couldn't blame him. She sent out a message to Kevinson. "This is Shaw. We've arrived at Jupiter."

 

After the expected delay, the moonman answered, "Right on schedule. Sergeant Grimm told you his story? Take care of him. We were chatting about my theory for faster than light travel, and I could feel him slipping a bit."

 

In the background, she heard someone shout, outraged, " _Your_ theory?"

 

The transmission cut out for a minute. "Anyway," Kevinson said, "My cousin caught a couple of numbers off in the calculations, though they were still very useful in his development of my theory. We just thought it odd. The computer should guide you to Europa. You both know what you're doing, more or less, and it's not terribly complicated to fly that bucket."

 

Shaw appreciated his belief in her skills, but she'd been so busy setting this madness up that she had barely gotten time in on the simulator. Grimm was so tired, too.

 

She remembered her conviction that she'd die in space and swallowed. "Right. We're going to head for Europa, then."

 

It was very annoying to have a conversation with such long pauses, she noted as she waited for an answer. No wonder people grew so isolated out here. She glanced out at the window at Jupiter, and wondered if the impossible bigness of the planet made it worse. It was just so... _huge,_ looming over everything.

 

"Up to you. Bear in mind that Europa Station is getting stranger than it already was. Or so they tell me. You're going to want to be able to make a quick getaway, so conserve fuel."

 

Shaw exchanged glances with Grimm, who had finally looked away from Jupiter. "Thanks. We'll let you know when we're docked."

 

"Sounds good. Kevinson out."

 

She sighed. Just stop at Europa, get a feel for things, and leave. Simple enough. She almost asked Grimm if he wanted to fly, but one look at him said he wasn't up to it. "I'll get us started in the right direction," she told him. He nodded and sat on a ledge in the wall, watching Jupiter.

 

She looked over a few minutes later to find him asleep.

 

* * *

 

It was snowing.

 

Sam laughed as Jim threw a snowball at Erin, who dodged and managed to catch him in the chest with another. They'd invited her to participate, but she was happy to sit on a bench and watch. She hadn't seen snow in person since well before the family had gone to Olduvai. Getting pelted with the stuff didn't appeal; it was much nicer to look at.

 

It wasn't long until Christmas, now. Having it here, with these people, could be so different than it had been at Olduvai. It had been very...official there, with a lot of ceremonies and community events. She'd celebrated it with one coworker's family or another over the years, always going home to her own quarters for a quiet evening after dinner. But she didn't need to do that. She hadn't before, but now she didn't want to.

 

After everything that had happened, it would be nice. She should have spent more time with the Olduvai team, really. She should have reached out to John. When he got home, she'd make sure she did.

 

The couple came over to her bench, exhausted but happy, holding hands. "What are you thinking about, Samantha?" Erin asked cheerfully.

 

"Just...making some resolutions. I've had a rough year."

 

"I hear you there," Jim said. He wrapped an arm around his wife. "Let's get inside. I'm sure Adriann's got tea waiting."

 

Sam followed them into the complex at a distance, content. The snow began to fall harder just as they got in. Adriann did indeed have tea waiting. Sam shed her jacket and sighed as she sat down next to a mug.

 

The tall woman was watching television, Glam!people to be specific. Sam's brow furrowed at the choice of channel. Adriann chuckled at her expression and muted the chattering young women. "I know. It's ridiculous. But the pretty people rumor is that remnants of the Olduvai civilization have been found on Europa." Sam's eyes went wide. _John_. "Some super-celebrity couple has made the moon their new pet project. I guess some spiritual guru essentially owns the research station. There's a big colonization effort ongoing among celebrity devotees."

 

"More of Olduvai?" Jim asked, "Well, I have no long term plans, and I've never been to another world. What do you think, my lovely lady?"

 

Erin smiled. "As soon as it seems safe."

 

Adriann turned off the screen entirely and moved to sit with them. "The super-celebrities- Kick Wilson and his long-time girlfriend- are reportedly already on Europa Station. Those two must be worth millions to their agents. I doubt they'd let them go if it wasn't safe."

 

"Just...space travel." Erin shivered dramatically. "Not my cup of tea." She took a sip of her mug. "So to speak."

 

Sam sat listening in silence, clutching her mug in a death grip. John was going to Europa, to tangle with the horrors of Olduvai again, and she was here, unable to help him. Unable to keep him safe.


	12. Chapter 12

John opted to take the _Harbinger_ into Europa. Shaw was pacing behind him as he opened comms with the station.

 

"Europa Station, this is the Harbinger of the Burning Sun. Requesting permission to dock."

 

There was a very, very long pause. "Repeat your ship's full name again, _Harbinger_."

 

They should be picking up the IFF and the ID broadcast. Strange place. "This is _Harbinger of the Burning Sun_. We're prospectors and just need resupply." It was a thin lie, but people often tried to strike to rich in the asteroid belt all the time and died horribly due to inexperience and unpreparedness. They'd probably look like those kind of prospectors, or at least that was what Shaw was betting.

 

He really hoped she was right.

 

" _Harbinger_ , you will dock in Port 1."

 

John followed instructions. Something was going to happen, he could feel it. And his head was starting to hurt like hell, but he'd fought through worse pain. He could fly the ship through this.

 

Shaw had stopped pacing and was now looking out the front window as they approached. It was an alien sight, which didn't help the uneasy feeling, especially through a window that had to darken for safety reason.

 

Europa's atmosphere seemed more of a haze from here, so the icy surface seemed to be bare to the void and the colossal mass of Jupiter. It was perfectly smooth except for the dark rectangular shapes of station's anchors and surface facilities.

 

The ship identified the docks and John cruised slowly in, slowly killing the engines as the hover-thrusters started to take over. The heavy doors snapped open as they approached, then snapped closed behind them like iron jaws. The decontamination procedures began running with a thunderous hum before the next set of doors opened.

 

God, his head hurt.

 

The dock seemed barely lit, even to his enhanced vision. A pair of lights sprang up to guide him down. He couldn't see anyone down there. How much of the station was automated, exactly?

 

The Harbinger sat down with a heavy thump and a series of creaks as it settled into Earth-normal gravity. "Come out of your ship slowly," port control ordered, "Leave it open."

 

Shaw and John looked at each other. "This is bad," he said.

 

"Probably. They're already pissed with us."

 

"Don't like outsiders?"

 

She shrugged. "Maybe."

 

"Should we play along?"

 

Shaw scowled at the door for a minute. "I don't like this. Europa's crazy, but no report described this."

 

John looked around through the cockpit. There was a huge, sleek UAC ship, a couple standard supply ships, and some shuttles, but there didn't seem to be anything like the _Harbinger_. There was an engine complex like theirs, though, propped up on some scaffolding.

 

"Grab whatever we might need, first," Shaw said, "then open the door."

 

The hurried through the ship, snatching a couple flashlights, some rations, and a few knives, before John hit the door. Just in time, too; a man in overalls stood with a plasma cutter, about to start opening the door.

 

Beyond him, four armed men stood with their strange files pointed at them.

 

"You are under arrest for blasphemy," one said, "Surrender or be taken by force."

 

* * *

 

"You said you need more pieces for that carving?" Adriann asked.

 

Sam looked up from her paper. She'd decided to leave the image for now, since there was no new information, and instead began drawing a map of a Olduvai from memory. It didn't appear that one had been published, which was absurd. "Carving?" she asked before her brain caught up, "Oh, right. Yes."

 

"Well, _this_ might help." With a flourish, she revealed a stone the size of her hand. Carved in it, clear and deep, was a strange circular pattern of mismatched lines.

 

On opposite sides of the design were fragments of curved lines, a gap between them and the edge of the lines.

 

Sam snatched the stone from Adriann's. She stared at, twisting it around and around, before rushing over to lay it in the center of the fragments.

 

She stepped back. It was a shattered image, all out of scale but clearly unified. The same design, ellipses nesting within each other, engraved circles on some of them, and in the center...in the center was...

 

"It's a map!" Sam shouted, "It's a map of the solar system!"


	13. Chapter 13

John knew he could have beaten all these men to a bloody pulp, but one of them would probably out a bullet through his head in the process. So they cooperated, though force was still used.

 

Europa station resembled Olduvai, predictably, but darker, tighter, and more sterile. They didn't seem to bother keeping half the lights on, and they passed no one as they were forced through hallways and into elevators, hands tied tightly behind their backs.

 

When they burst out into a much brighter, wider space, John felt his headache intensify. He couldn't suppress a wince as the brighter light blinded him. It felt like lasers lancing through his brain at every angle.

 

As his eyes adjusted rapidly to the light, he could see the room was dominated by a observation window. There was a crowd, too, but just...the alien ocean consumed all attention. He couldn't see far into it; this water had never known sunlight, and the station's lights didn't extend very far.  

 

The deep blackness was still a presence, though, almost like Jupiter, but alive, _hungry._ John couldn't take his eyes off it as they were marched forward. Fish-things hovered at the windows, but didn't alleviate the devouring dark. No wonder Hack and his people had gone insane. The gas giant looming above and this deep, dark, cold sea all around.

 

"These are the blasphemers?"  a man asked. The crowd parted as the speaker approached John and Shaw, forming a circle around them.

 

The man was very bland looking bald man, fitting every image of a bureaucrat, right down to his glasses. Like everyone else here, he was very pale and dressed in a plain gray jumpsuit.

 

"I am the Prophet's great servant," he told them, adjusting his glasses, "Theodore Hack. I was informed that you blasphemed the Prophet. What have you to say for yourselves?" His voice was utterly without menace, or even a sense of power. Just a practical tone, as of he were investigating the cause of a car wreck.

 

"We...aren't clear on how we did that," Shaw said, tentative.

 

"No? The name of your ship is a horror, an attempt at refuting the truth of the Prophet. Were you aware of its name as you approached our blessed home?"

 

"They were!" someone shouted from the crowd, "The pilot said it to me _twice_ when he established communications!"

 

Hack adjusted his glasses again. "That _is_ sufficient evidence for blasphemy. The sentence, my brethren of the cold and dark, is death."

 

The crowd murmured their assent, seeming pleased, nodding as they glared at John and Shaw.

 

"We have dealt with blasphemers before, but none did so in this manner," Hack continued. He didn't even look at the crowd, just at the two. "I must adjourn to seek the Prophet's guidance in the specifics of their sentence."

 

Without another word, he turned and left. The crowd parted before him in silent awe.

 

John and Shaw looked at each other. Shaw's eyes were wide, her breathing hard. John couldn't think. He had been through this- Africa, 2043, Portman had been shot in the ass - but he couldn't think. The pain seemed almost audible, screaming through his brain. He heard, he saw, but he could not think.

 

They were hauled in a new direction, marched through the glaring denizens of Europa Station. No one spoke or moved, just glared.

 

Then there was an ear-splitting shriek, which shocked the guards enough to stop. They looked around, weapons half raised.

 

A woman shoved her way through the crowd. She seemed familiar, though the gray jumpsuit and his killer headache made it hard to place her. Brown hair, perfect slim build, and vivid green eyes...he should know, it was tangled up in memories of the guys, _he_ _could_ _not_ _think_.

 

The woman stopped on front of Shaw. "My daughter! My little lost darling!"

 

Shaw looked utterly bewildered. A tall, perfect blond man walked up, his eyes wide in shock. "It is _her_. It is! The Prophet has brought you back to us!"

 

Shaw backed up, into John. He shoved through the pain to stand at her side, and recognized who these people were. Kick Wilson and Amy Tardiff, the mega-celebrities. They were Shaw's parents? He realized that the vivid green eyes and the bright blue eyes matched Shaw's mixed set.

 

"Serramar..." Tardiff said, reaching for her.

 

"Go to hell," Shaw whispered. John wasn't sure they heard.

 

Tardiff turned to Wilson. "We have to go to milord. We must beg him to ask the Prophet for mercy. It was...it was such a _small_ blasphemy."

 

Wilson placed a perfectly tanned hand on her shoulder. "But it was blasphemy." He sighed, and gave Shaw a sad smile. "But we will try, my lovely Serramar. We will try." He helped Tardiff up and they bolted off in the direction Hack had headed.

 

The pain came back to the front of John's mind in a vicious wave, worse than before. He winced and stumbled. Shaw caught him with a grunt. The guards recovered and shoved them forward, Shaw supporting most of John's weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1)Serramar is a rank from the Twelve Houses series of fantasy books, written by Sharon Shinn. I liked the sound of it and it worked as a haughty ridiculous celebrity extension of the name Mar.


	14. Chapter 14

"A map of the Solar System," Sam said, "I can't believe it. But there it is."

Adriann, making tea, chuckled.

"The circles have to be planets, and the writing on them...names? But why put it everywhere? It's children's science, but they put it towering over marketplaces and their amphitheaters. It's just so culturally prominent." A thought occurred. "Where did you get that sun fragment?"

"Oh, I have connections."

The tall woman sat a mug in front of Sam. She grasped it but didn't drink, her mind running too fast. "It could be a long shot- we've never found a complete, or even semi-complete, image."

"It's a good hunch."

"True." She almost cursed the loss of Olduvai, but stopped, well aware of the horrors found there. "We need another site."

"Well, you have found a map," Adrian pointed out over her tea.

Sam blinked. "An image of their...empire?" She hadn't thought of it that way. It could be. They had been spectacularly advanced. But the only evidence of space travel ever found had been the Ark. Sam took a sip of her tea. If there were more sites like Olduvai....more artifacts, more to study, yes, but also maybe more C24.

Her body suddenly felt heavy. She swayed and braced herself on the table, chuckling. "I guess I've been working to hard." Her words seemed strange and far away, as if her mouth couldn't make the sounds quite right.

"You should rest."

Sam nodded and let go of the table to find a chair. Her legs gave out and the world narrowed swiftly to a lightless tunnel. The mug shattered nearby and Sam lost sight of the waking world.

* * *

 

 On any other world, the cell would have been dank and damp as well as cold, but Europa Station was airtight. A leak would be death, so captivity in its brig was a gleaming metallic loneliness, accompanied by a view into the great lurking black of the ocean.

It didn't help that Shaw's companion was quietly going in and out of consciousness. He shouldn't be. They hadn't hit him, and he was superhuman besides. He should be in a better state than her in every sense, but he was fading in and out, in and out, never relaxed.

Either their executioners or her parents would be coming soon. Neither thought offered much hope.

Grimm- John, seeing him like this made her want to call him by his first name- roused again, with some real life in his eyes. "Anything...happen?" he asked, the question taking effort.

"No."

He sat up, resting his back against a wall. "Your parents are here."

She shrugged. "I was expecting it, if not like this."

He looked at her seriously, the weariness emphasized in the dim light. "Is this going to be harder for you?"

"No," she said, then amended, "and yes. I was just an accessory, a way to get into the headlines, for them. I grew up knowing it. They were barely there and barely caring. And so I ran away. It's not a complicated relationship. Emotionally disturbing, yes."

"You're so sure they don't care?"

She shut her eyes, leaning her head back against cold metal. "When they do, it's only for drama's sake, an emotional high that doesn't go anywhere. Another pleasure, another kind of drug. Tabloid fodder." Like her life had been meant to be. She shivered. "Their being here is the same. I'd...rather not see them die for it, though."

He was silent. She opened her eyes again to see him wincing in pain, looking out to the ocean. "Are you okay?"

"No. My head...something is wrong. Something has been wrong for a very long time."

The last sentence was hollow, somehow seeming like it wasn't entirely his voice. The old fear, that John Grimm's mutation had somehow made him inhuman, reared its head. She squashed it; she had spent enough time with the man to know that wasn't true at all.

"What's wrong?" she ventured, reaching out to him carefully.

He looked at her again. His pupils were dilating. "History lingers like a scream. The awful things never go away. And there is a living poison in it here..." He blinked, and his eyes were normal again. "Sorry, it's getting worse."

She laid a hand on his. "What is getting worse?"

"Nightmares. Like always, but alive. And waking, here." She was silent. He wasn't done speaking yet. "It's the Olduvai one, with everything that happened to the guys thrown in, but also...what happened. A long time ago. With the...mutation."

Shaw grimaced and moved to sit as his side. He leaned heavily against her. He'd seemed to be handling things so well, but he had to have one horrific case of PTSD. To lose everyone you cared about before your eyes...why did they think he would be fine? "It's just a nightmare. It's done."

He shook his head. She could feel the weakness overtaking him. "No...the voices..." And he was out again, a large dead masculine weight resting against her. His breathing was restless and ragged.

Shaw rested her cheek against his hair, not sure if he could notice any comfort she was giving. She tried to regulate her breathing, on the nonsensical hope it would steady his own.

She'd lost count of his still wild breaths by the time the door opened.

She turned to glare at the intruders. Wilson and Tardiff, backed by an armed guard. She grit her teeth. Tardiff was making a sad face worthy of a soap opera. Wilson looked to be blinking back tears. Shaw huddled closer to the unconscious John.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"We're here to take care of you," Wilson said. The lighting threw the vague wrinkles around his eyes into stark relief; these two were not so young as they seemed. "We've missed you so much. We thought you were..." He couldn't finish.

"We thought you were dead, Serramar," Tardiff finished shakily.

Shaw wanted to throw up, holding onto her anger to maintain control. This wasn't supposed to go this way. They were supposed to sneak in as some traders looking for resupply, find out what was going on via bar talk, and go back. These two would have remained unseen.

And if things had gone wrong, the superhuman Marine would have been conscious and dangerous.

No plan survives first contact intact, they said. She staved off panic by sheer will and rage.

"I'm not here for you," she told them.

"Of course not," her female parent said, "You're here for the same reason as everyone else: the Prophet. We'll take you to see what you've strived for. What you left us to seek. And finally all will be well."

They grabbed her arms and pulled. Shaw resisted, but the guard decided to throw how strength in and they yanked her out of the cell.

As they forcibly marched her forward, she turned her head to watch them shut the door on John. She thought she saw him watching feverishly before he was locked away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm attempting to find all the embarrassing typos in previous chapters. That's what happens when you post stories when you're depressed, folks.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam woke on a hospital bed.

She blinked blearily at the bland white ceiling. There was an IV in her arm. Had Erin taken her to the hospital after she fainted?

"I was wondering if the dosage was too high."

Sam sat up carefully, frowning. She froze when she saw the bars that surrounded her. Erin was smiling smugly on the other side of them. She was wearing a lab coat, with 'UAC' branded blue on one shoulder. "As they say, military intelligence is a contradiction."

The sluggishness fell away and Sam stood violently. She'd been dressed in a hospital gown. The idea made her skin crawl. "How could you do this?"

Erin rolled her eyes. All her soothing, caring demeanor was gone. "I want knowledge, Dr. Grimm, just as you do. The means are irrelevant."

Sam gripped the bars. She still felt weak. How could...this woman had brought her tea!She'd given her advice, she'd been a comfort! How? How? "It was all an act, then."

"Corporate espionage is a game for the gifted, dearie."

"You _bitch_."

That garnered a shrug. Erin moved to a computer nearby. The area Sam's cage sat in looked like a lab, desks and equipment shoved aside to make room for the prisoner. "I believe I could have gotten more data, even a C-24 sample, without breaking cover, but the UAC makes the rules and I'm not about to jeopardize my access to Olduvai artifacts." She glanced over at Sam from her computer, something wicked in her green eyes. "Or the site, once they reopen it. Or one of the others you are going to lead me to."

"I'm not going to help you with anything."

Erin snorted irreverently. "Convictions aren't worth much in light of...everything."

"That's what people like you always think."

Erin turned her chair towards her prisoner, unimpressed. "There are only people like me, when you strip away all the delusions. Now, we only have fragments, and we can extrapolate from there, but the scale is either an artistic interpretation or their outposts weren't just on planets and moons. Asteroids, almost certainly. Comets, potentially."

In a childish show of defiance, Sam folded her arms and dropped onto her bed. "I'm not helping you."

"Your brother is on one of the UAC's facilities, you know, in the Europan sea. The administrator is mad, of course, but obedient. If I request that John be killed, he will die."

Sam felt the idea of John- very smart, very strong, very good, and very much her brother- light her heart up. Not all hope was lost, not while he was alive. "That won't be so easy."

"Not even a superhuman can withstand the cold and pressure of that ocean." Sam's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I know what he is. What you made him into. The video transmissions were salvaged from both ends of the Ark. He's other than human. Maybe less." Her eyes darted to Sam, mercurial still but with the cruel edge bared. "It's the same thing that made all others monsters, after all."

"You don't know him."

She typed, frowned at the screen, resumed typing. "He's the sort of thing those shackles were for, isn't he?"

"This isn't going to work."

"It will. Eventually the reminders of unpleasant truths and legitimate fears will wear you down, and you will do what I want. You use the intellect to break an intellectual to bridle." She said it like a proverb born of experience.

"Why bother?"

The tall woman's posture perked up, and Sam knew her curiosity had been a mistake, a way of giving in. "The map I can piece together myself; a child could. The writing, however, requires finer expertise than mine or that of my tamed colleagues."

To admit she couldn't hope to decipher it might sign her death certificate. These people had no writing. There was no Rosetta Stone, no cousin tongues to draw conclusions from. "The UAC thinks it's a good idea to go into those ruins, but it's not. I know it's not. There's nothing but horror and hell in them."

"So you never discovered any writing prior to this? At all?" Erin asked, ignoring Sam's statement, "Did you ever wonder why?"

Sam grit her teeth. "Yes."

"They worked in stone, decorated it, even, but no words. In everything we've reverse engineered- oh, yes, we did; did you think the technology we found simply sat in a museum?-there's been no sign of a truly identifiable language. We've had to jury-rig at least half of it."

What had they made? Sam racked her brain, trying to remember what the other departments had been finding. Adamantine, yes, but the UAC had been manufacturing that for years and years, since the Ark was first found. There were some structural engineering finds she'd heard of in the cafeteria, but nothing remotely as dangerous or even interesting as C-24.

Erin spun lazily in her chair, like a malevolent child. "It calls to mind some interesting theories about C-24...how could it eliminate the need for written language?" The cunning look she gave Sam made the younger woman want to shiver. She resisted the impulse. "But as that option is circling Jupiter at the moment, you're the best hope I have for translating this. The UAC wants to know where best to spend resources, you see."

"So you want me to translate for you."

"You're the surviving expert on Olduvai."

Except she couldn't do it. Making it up would probably have terrible consequences. But she needed time to figure something out. "How am I supposed to do that in a cage?"

Smugly, Erin snatched up a sheaf of paper on her desk and strutted over to poke it through the bars. "With this."

Sam took it from her violently and unrolled it to reveal a neatly reconstructed image of the concentric ellipsis pattern in its full glory. It was immensely complex and detailed, rings around rings, with a few overlapping in vastly irregular ovals. CometsShe had to follow a line carefully to be sure she found its engraved circle. It felt ceremonial, surely too small to be to scale, not a useable map of any kind.

"How did you find all the pieces?" Sam asked despite herself.

"I had the UAC teams scour the archives for anything that looked like it might have been a part of it. It's a far more common pattern than we thought. I've been piecing it together for months. Very little of it is inferred."

Sam sat on her bunk, still staring at the image. With this many orbiting objects, it would be impossible to just count nine and say what was what. She doubted a translation would help, though if she could find commonalities in the glyphs it would buy her time, if nothing else. "Alright," she murmured, "I'll help you."

Erin chuckled darkly. "I knew you would."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pluto is still a planet, do you hear me?


	16. Chapter 16

The Neanderthal Elf looked at him with haunted blue eyes and reached out with a hand both primal and delicate.

John reached out to meet it. The headache-inducing noise- the rumble of the depths mixed with a hungry chill keening- sounded constantly. Olduvai, at once whole, breaking, and broken, surrounded them.

Human laughter cut through it all. The scene dissolved. Except for the noise. It just grew faint.

John stared at the metal wall his hand was stretched toward. He felt perfectly lucid, but he doubted it would last long enough to bend the bars and break out and find Shaw.

He looked over to the man who laughed. It was Hack, leering through the bars like an old school Hollywood serial killer, his glasses blank from reflected light. "So you're the one."

John just glared back.

"The special one. The Prophet said you'd entered the Gestalt." He stepped forward, resting his pale and smooth hands on the bars. "Not born into it. No, not born into it."

John continued to glare. He didn't have to contribute much to this conversation in order to learn something.

Not that he'd likely be able to do that for long. The noise was swelling in his head.

"You were given their gift. They found out how to get it from their bones finally, and they gave it to you." The grin twisted into a snarl. Hack didn't have the face for the expression, which made it worse. "To you, a random meathead, not to me, who has served them so well!"

"It wouldn't have left you human," John said.

"It would have made me more. It would have opened the Gestalt." He leaned forward even more, so that his doughy bureaucratic face was pressed between the bars. "It will."

Something thumped against the back wall, the clear one that looked out into to the dark sea.

John locked up. The noise in his head had become real, sending the cell's bars ringing. He did not want to look outside, watching Hack instead. It wasn't an alien fish, he knew that, somehow. It was something much, much worse.

Hack was gaping in adoration at the thing. "The Prophet wants to speak directly with you," he said, "It is an honor beyond belief that it should come physically this way. And you, you will hear it as none of the faithful do. You will hear the True Voice."

The sound intensified, piercing John's thoughts. He gripped his head in both hands, willing himself to remain in reality. Hack reached up, gripping the bars higher and threw his entire body back in sick ecstasy. "Behold, the Frozen Prophet, whose will shall cover the flawed stars in the perfection of ice!"

John finally looked into the waters. Huge, sinuous coils writhed over the window, probably all over that side of the station. They drew back for a moment, to reveal a vast glowing eye, its pupil a humongous slashing X.

The pupil contracted as it saw him, the noise grew into a deafening roar, and all else but that terrible eye and its twisting coils vanished.

* * *

 

Shaw kept her head down, staring at the dainty teacup before her. It was an exotic and shimmering piece, created in some painstaking way she didn't bother to remember, and ridiculously expensive. Tardiff had explained at length as they sat her in their suite. The tea was some special thing, too, though a thirsty Shaw hadn't tasted anything particularly unique about it.

The suite, though, that surprised her, but not because of its luxury. She was expecting that.

No, it was as small and spartan as any other room in a hostile environment colony, maybe even more so. The furniture was spare, just a bed, a table, chairs, and single set of cabinets, all lightweight and cheap. No personal touches except for the exotic tea set. Even the sheets were plain white and seemed to be typical colony issue.

This wasn't like them.

"We're just so glad you came back to us," Wilson said.

"We searched and search all these years, as soon as you vanished from the photo shoot. If you hadn't been swept off...oh, Serramar, that family photoshoot would have made you a star!" Tardiff rested a hand on Shaw's limp one, liquid green eyes more maudlin than usual. "But then, you would have been sucked into the hollowness of that life too, with all the broken promises. Maybe this was for the best. That's all the Prophet wills, after all. The best."

This really wasn't like them. All the news she'd seen of them, they were lovers of luxury, thoroughly enjoying the life of movie stars- to include drug-addled misadventures that made international news and subsequent rehabs.

Because they clearly wanted a response, Shaw echoed, "The best."

Wilson nodded. "You see, we lived on false promises." True. "We made so many mistakes." True, as well. "Wealth and fame did not...did not make us perfect." Yes...though most people would say happy. "So we searched."

"Through the tantric mysticism," Tardiff said, "Hubbard's books, the practices of the burnt covens, mysteries of the Kabbalah, and the lost arts of the People's Temple, and finally Crowley's teachings. None made us perfect, though the journey taught us so much...and led us to Theodore Hack's webcasts. And the message of the Frozen Prophet."

Wilson hugged Tardiff. Their eyes were starry but not joyful. "Human ideas of beauty are warped, you see. In the temporary loveliness of youth, we see it. In the dying fires of sunrise and sunset, in the lies of laughter of friends, in the perishable bonds of family." This was a quote, Shaw could feel it in the ice running down her spine. "In the work of human hands, things crafted with skills and creativity..." He picked up his teacup, with its garden of iridescence, and threw it across the room to shatter on the dull metal wall. "In all its fragility, we believe we see beauty. This is all delusion. Love, they say...love some liars say is a crucifixion, and no brokenness can hold beauty. The only beauty that can be found is in stasis and stillness and sameness. This is the promise of the Frozen Prophet. When all is frozen beneath its will, all will stillness, all will be sameness, and there will be the perfection of true beauty in its maw."

Shaw stared at him wide-eyed. This was insane. These people were only violent here in their corner of next-to-nowhere, but their madness hinted at grander ambitions. And if Hack had found something of the Olduvai people's technology, they might be able to follow through on his madness.

"That," she said, "is...a major effort."

"Perfection always is."

The best thing to do would be to bolt. Yes, there was a guard at the door, but she was moderately certain she could handle him if he was still alone. Tardiff and Wilson would descend into weeping to further compliment their insane stupidity. Finding her way back to John wouldn't be easy; this place was a maze. And freeing him was whole new problem.

From there they'd need to get to the hangers and somehow force the hangar doors open and escape whatever surface defenses she was sure Hack had installed. John would probably remain out of commission for the whole adventure, as well.

There were ways to simplify this piss poor plan, though, if only just. "I..." She shifted uncomfortably. "Is Hack the Prophet?"

Tardiff laughed. "No, of course not! He is the honored Speaker of the Prophet, the first one it visited in his dreaming hours."

Great. She had meant to get another rambling about the Prophet's glory, not further cultish insanity. "In his dreams?"

"It comes to us in our dreams, when we are nearest to frozen solid, nearest to perfect." Nearest to death, if old poets were to be believed. "And there we delight in its promises, under its watchful eye."

"So the Prophet lives in dreams."

The woman smiled sweetly and patted Shaw's hair, moving to finger the short ends with a slight frown. "Your hair should be much longer, dear. And no, of course not. The Prophet lives in the sea."

The station shook suddenly, as if something had slammed into its side. Shaw almost jumped out of her skin.

Wilson smiled wide. "It's come to the station. Hack said it did, sometimes. We need to see it. You need to see it, Serramar, to say you'll let it into your dreams."

Shaw had no intention of doing so, but she nodded anyway. Tardiff grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door enthusiastically, Wilson on their heels. Shaw tried to keep track of the twists and turns as they hurried through the corridors, but the sameness was overwhelming.

At last they came to the common room where she and John had been captured. The same mob crowded it, but their attention was locked on the giant window.

Writhing pale coils dominated the view. Shaw couldn't tell if they were tentacles or a tail; nothing resembling an end surfaced in the tumult. The motion was sickening, like some bizarre optical illusion. Whatever alien beast this was, it was agitated beyond belief. Had Hack tamed this thing to do his whim, a sort of cult mascot? A representation of his god?

Tardiff had dropped her hand to rush, gaping, to the window to adore the writhing mass with the rest. Shaw didn't waste further time to speculate on the thing. She bolted from the room unhindered.

She halted in a hallway for a moment. She didn't want...she didn't want to abandon them to this madness. The desire shocked her. They were fools, who would have used her, but they didn't deserve to be used in turn.

But John was sick and didn't have the favor of crazy family to keep him safe in this underwater madhouse.

Now just to find him. She hurried away from the window and the twisting beast.


	17. Chapter 17

John had never been so cold. It wasn't like cryo, or half-remembered blizzards. It was an alien cold, not meant for human beings to know, and worse for it.

Worse, too, for the thing that was swooping around him in the heavy and viscous void.

It was massive, a pale almost reptilian head propelled by powerful twisting tentacles. He could see the two massive eyes, phosphorescent with great X-shaped irises.

It did another circle, then came to rest in front of him.

The cold remained, but the void vanished. John landed hard on a some kind of deck. He winced and looked up to the monster.

Its tentacles curled around and caressed massive glassy columns. The huge eyes surveyed him, pupils flexing. The jaw hung half open, massive teeth reminding him of deep sea fish from Earth.

"So you are the one I felt."

John started at the voice. It could only have come from the monster. "You're the Frozen Prophet."

"It is a name for me. You are not anymore of their kind than the rest...less, even, than the one called Theodore Hack." The thing didn't change position in any way, but he felt like it was studying him. If it'd been human, it would have been walking in a circle around him. The pupils suddenly snapped into thin lines. "So, the apes have finally found what they did to themselves. I look forward to the ruin that will feed me. You will flee, and many will flee here, to my jaws!" It opened its maw wide. No saliva glistened between needle teeth, just a great abyss.

"Is that what happened before?"

The jaws snapped violently back to their gaping. "What is happening now also happened. But the Gestalt offered a greater feast than the dreaming of apes. Now, there is only you in it, and memories."

The Gestalt? Hack had mentioned that, too. John frowned as he searched for a way out. This thing, the Frozen Prophet...watching it move made him sick.

A tentacle tore loose from a column and slammed to the ground. The Prophet laughed, if you could call the amusement of the crushing depths laughter. John backed away from the tentacle. It writhed against a wall, too close and searching.

"I consumed them, in their minds, and when those were gone, they threw their flesh into my maw! But not all. Some were elsewhere, screaming their own doom in the Gestalt. Some fled to your ape-world, and in desperation bred mongrel spawn. And those, they came back to me as did the ones before. But no hunt, as before, no chasing through the caverns of the Gestalt. The rest throw their minds to me, desperate to feed some ape-need." The tentacles raised the head up, and began lumbering forward. "It is simple, it feeds, yes, but lacks the thrill. But now you. Given entrance into the Gestalt, without their defenses. The perfect hunt. Little mongrel prey, run."

John ran, plunging down a dark corridor.

* * *

 

Shaw hadn't expected it to be this easy.

She had also hoped that John might be conscious, but he looked like a dead weight hanging between the men dragging him. If he wasn't audibly panting, she'd be worried he was dead.

Unarmed combat hinged on speed, especially for a woman. Also, usually it hinged on having a buddy to put a bullet in the bastard's head, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Shaw followed the two as they entered a large room. Four small, oblong submersibles hung suspended over what looked like airlocks. A brightly lit lab glowed in a back alcove. They dragged John towards it, cursing at his weight.

She stuck close to the walls, in the shadows, hunting for something to use as a weapon. Plenty of heavy options- wrenches, parts, crowbars- and some welding equipment, but nothing particularly projectile. She quietly snatched a crowbar off a workbench, bile rising in her throat at the anticipation of smashing through a human skull.

Killing another person is all so academic before you actually have to do it.

She hurried closer to the men, tucking herself behind a control console of some kind. A screen showed a cartoonish submarine suspended above an empty gray square.

Controls for the submarine airlocks. She eyed the console panel. One button below was illuminated red and said 'closed'. Another, currently dim, said 'deploy'. Blue letters on the screen asked for remote airlock sequence initiation. There was a slot for key card insertion.

There was also a key card sitting on the console.

Shaw slammed the card into place, prompting a new set of warnings to scroll across the bottom of the screen. Whatever. Readying her crowbar, she lightly pressed the 'closed' button. It flashed green, the words morphing into 'open.' A steady mechanical grinding sounded from the nearest hatch as it opened.

The guards cursed, muttering about stupid kids. One dropped John, pulling a weapon from his side and headed for her, leaving the other to bear the prisoner's weight, cursing. He clearly thought it was more important to get John to the lab.

Thank God for stupid bad guys. Shaw edged to the side of the console, making herself small but ready to spring. The guard stomped his way to the console and scowled at it.

Just as he reached to close the doors, Shaw leapt to her feet and swung for his head as of it were a baseball.

The sensation was a shock, all soft and hard, just like the sound. He dropped.

Shaw could feel the blood spattered on her body, but kept her mind focused on the other guard. The console had illuminated the violence enough for him to see an attacker. He had dropped John and started to draw his weapon, shouting. She couldn't make out what.

She rushed him, swinging for his body. Center mass. A lot easier to hit, no matter the weapon.

Somehow, she got to him before he drew his weapon, heavy iron hitting ribs with a fleshy thump. She could feel the connection, the give all the way up her arm. The man went down, moaning.

She left him and turned to John, who lay in a heap on the ground. He wasn't unconscious, just not there, eyes half open but unseeing, chest heaving.

Not many options here...she could see movement in the lighted lab. Shaw dropped the crowbar and carefully dragged him over her shoulders, the technique half remembered. Damn, he was heavy, and not sitting right, his weight off center and dragging her backwards.

She forced herself forward towards the submarine pit console. If John had been aware, he'd be in pain now; she'd never met a man who found it comfortable to have someone's shoulder digging into their balls. She slammed the deploy button and entered yes to initiation sequence before rushing to the lowering sub.

It halted with its open hatch at floor level. She unceremoniously half-dumped, half-lowered John in, then leapt in herself, hitting a button to seal the hatch before she'd even found her balance. Wonder of the modern world, the way everything was done by button.

The sub jolted as it lowered, then came to sudden stop. The entire thing consisted of a tiny helm and the tinier cargo space. Shaw hauled John into the passenger chair, then strapped herself into the pilot seat. The sub was sitting in some kind of cradle. The doors above grinning shut, and water began to flood into the chamber.

Shaw gulped as she looked at the controls. Not any more complicated, maybe even less, than the spaceship they took to this Godforsaken frozen ball of insanity.

The ocean would leave them to the beast outside the station, but it would also give them a chance to find another airlock closer to the spaceport. There had to be more than one.

She settled her hands on the steering yoke and took deep breaths as dark water rose around them.


	18. Chapter 18

Sam wiped her forehead with a sleeve and kept worrying at the door pin with the pen Erin had given her.

She hadn't expected to have an opportunity to escape less than a day into captivity, but she wasn't about to pass it up. Erin had underestimated her, leaving her alone with a tool.

Sam had left the Olduvai map on the cot, with barely a scribble. If Erin thought Sam could decipher the whole thing on her own, she was insane. They needed an expert astronomer, at least, and a comprehensive map of the Solar System, one detailing every major object in local space. So far, Sam had guessed the large central object's glyph meant 'Sun'. She'd be willing to bet the first orbit from there was Mercury, if only because it was hard to believe even that civilization could create something that could survive any closer to the Sun than the innermost planet. From there, it was a wild guessing game.

The pin slid upwards for the twentieth time. Sam gritted her teeth and prayed as she carefully began pulling it higher with the tip of her pen. It had slipped every other time, leaving her to start over.

The pin popped free and fell to the floor with a light pinging sound.

The cage fell apart with a less subtle crash.

Sam yelped as it came apart, throwing her arms over her head. One edge struck hard enough to bruise her forearm, but it was over quickly and painlessly. She was free, at least from the cage.

Hopefully the lab door could be unlocked from the inside. She snatched up the diagram impulsively and rushed over to fling the door open. No alarm, no guards, just a sterile hallway with a UAC poster giving a friendly warning against workplace sexual harassment. No sign pointing to an exit.

Sam turned right and rushed down the windowless hallway, past other unlabeled doors. No one seemed in the halls. What time was it? Was she lucky enough for it be after work hours?

She followed the turns of the hallway to a metal wall. Dead end. As she turned to go in the other direction, the wall flickered on the edge of her vision.

Sam turned back to it, seeing it flicker again. No, not a dead end. A nano wall!

She rushed to the control panel in an adjacent wall. Her time at Olduvai had taught her all the tricks of the UAC's bureaucratic security measures. Nano walls, being a useful security measures but highly dangerous, could be deactivated by a particular code in order to free anyone or anything trapped in them. Only select maintenance personnel knew it, but Sam wasn't about to let any hazards in her lab be out of her control. She'd memorized what it was during a regular maintenance session.

Once used, the wall couldn't be reactivated again without serious mechanical work; the code fried the wall's systems. Anyone pursuing her would know she came this way.

There weren't any other options, not really. Sam entered the code.

* * *

John felt like he was going in circles. This place was made of glass, it seemed like, or carefully cut crystal, strong precise elegant lines and repetitive as all hell.

And silent. No pebble falling or rushing wind, just his footsteps and the giant sound of the Prophet crawling after him.

A small shadowy movement flickered in front of him, something about it beckoning. It wasn't the Prophet; he could hear the coiling slap of its tentacles as it closed in.

Didn't mean it wasn't something as bad or worse, but what did he have to lose? He bolted toward the movement, twisting around the columns.

The figure paused and John skidded to a stop. It was the Neanderthal Elf, with his blue, blue eyes, just inhuman enough not to be human.

"You're one of them," John said, shocked, "The Olduvai people."

The...man...didn't answer, just stared solemnly back. The Prophet rippled behind, closing in.

John felt it, not in his head or anywhere specific, just all over, an implied idea coming from outside. It was hazy as if hearing a message through static, but clear in its simplicity: they needed to run, he needed to follow.

They moved together, the guidance from the other hitting John like bizarre spikes of intuition.

The Prophet roared in clear words. "Another!"

The clean lines changed to stone and red earth as they ran (Olduvai, as it was, the other let him know) that crumbled to rubble as the monster came closer, and then to towering skyscrapers of metal beneath a yellow sky, then a cramped space that looked out into the trackless void, then...

Then too late. The beast burst through, and all was glassy columns again, their backs were to a shining metal wall. Tentacles writhed in anticipation as it slowed, jaw working slowly.

The other turned to him, sorrow in his refined and primitive features. A hand reached for John, pressing gently against his face.

Something slammed against him, though he remained perfectly still. Everything faded to black, then came back again. Something else was with him, now, a cypher, or a secret, or...something alien. He couldn't sort it out. There was too much noise around him.

His companion was baring his teeth. He withdrew slowly, turning to face the Prophet.

A malicious communication racked the area, though there were no words in it. The Neanderthal Elf answered in a smaller 'voice', a pebble before the tide. John caught the backwash of information and ideas and hunger and rage. It sent him staggering, clutching at his head.

A tentacle seized the other man, the last of his kind, and swept him into the massive maw. The criss-cross pupils contracted and abject pleasure swept across the room.

John didn't dare turn away. His eyes swept the room for an escape or a weapon.

The tentacles fluttered once more in delight and began regarding him.

* * *

The sea monster was _everywhere_.

Shaw wrestled the sub left and right and upside down, dodging tentacles as they coiled. She knew she was far from the station now, since even the glimmer of its lights was long gone. That wasn't good, but she'd rather not be crushed to death by an alien life-form. If only she could get the sub's radar to work. Something, probably the animal, was messing with it.

She only caught sight of the next swinging tentacle by the reflection of light of its shiny surface. She flipped the sub to the right, jolting both herself and John against their harnesses.

That reflection hadn't been at the right angle to come from her lights. Too high, for one. She angled the sub in what might be the right direction and pushed on the throttle.

A tentacle tried to wrap around the sub, but she dodged in a move that left her nearly biting her tongue in half. And then she saw it.

It spiraled like a giant shell made of gleaming metal and crystal, rooted above in dark ice. The lights that dotted its sides were dim but seemed bright in the vast darkness. Tentacles shifted around like someone admiring a jewel too delicate to touch.

Shaw pushed the sub as hard as it could go. This wasn't Europa Station- in fact, she didn't think that it was any human station. It had to be Hack's ruin, the thing they hoped he wouldn't find, which probably held the secrets of C-24.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be a refuge, at least for a little while.

A sound drilled into her brain suddenly and _did not stop_. Shaw screamed and released the controls, back arching against her seat as the pain swelled.

* * *

 

The scream that John felt- it wasn't a sound, just a feeling- was so horribly, blessedly human that he couldn't help his relief.

He realized with a jolt that it was Shaw. She was nearby and in pain. He could sense the Prophet's laughter as John broadcast his realization.

"You can do nothing," it told him.

John glared at the closing tentacles as the Shaw's mental cry hit a new pained pitch...and his vision went black.

He blinked as it returned. Shaw was straining against a seat harness, screaming her throat raw.

By an instinct he knew wasn't really his, he tore off his own tangled harness and reached to cradle her head. Something slipped from him to her and she fell still, breathing hard but unconscious. He could sense the Prophet recoil, hurt. It wouldn't stay that way.

John fell back, trying to process where he was _now_. This was real, he was pretty sure. They were in a small submarine, in the dark...no, not quite.

Ahead lay a station clearly of no human make. He knew it instantly.

He'd been inside it a few moments ago, in that mental world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deployment writing yay.


End file.
